


Candy And A Currant Bun

by fairlightscales



Series: 33 and 1/3 [12]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types, Sneedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Abduction, Adolescent Sexuality, Adventure & Romance, Boarding School, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Innocence, Quests, Ross and Dem, Snow Queen Elements, True Love, bundling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 85,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairlightscales/pseuds/fairlightscales
Summary: The Snow Queen with Ross as Kay, Dem as Gerda and Elizabeth as the Snow Queen...
Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark
Series: 33 and 1/3 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420387
Comments: 370
Kudos: 66





	1. Thy Sweetness

Time passed. Ross and Dem passed four years together in good company and friendship. They outgrew naps and no longer curled up to sleep in the garden or at the hearth. They chased each other and laughed and sang. They played games and, when in repose, sat together on the bench between their homes, in the garden, by the lilac tree. They would dream and talk of the fairy tales they'd heard and wish for adventures. 

Prudie and Jud felt they were now old enough to play on the village green among the other children. Dem skipped rope and played hand clapping rhymes, made daisy chains and laughed among the girls. Ross raced and wrestled and made silly boasts and jokes with the boys. They were well liked, they had fun every day. At the end of each day, when the children parted ways, Ross and Dem walked home, hand in hand and retained their loyal friendship.

On Fridays, Jud and Prudie gave them a penny each and let them buy a treat from the bake shop. McNeil's Bakery was a strange shop in the village. It had glamour about it in a way that the other shops lacked. Malcolm and his goodwife, Cynthia, had settled here from Scotland but the shop had the copper kettles, starched lace frills and warm, sugary scents that would not be out of place on the Continent. In France. In Spain. In a well appointed, Viennese pastry shop. Glass jars of colorful sweets lined the shelves frilled, primly, with frothy lace trim. Snowy loaves of bread, stacked at the ready. Gingerbreads, some shaped like men, some in fanciful shapes like roosters and bears. Small cakes filled with cream and, set on their tray among these treats, pillowy soft currant buns on one half and their kinsmen on the other -the same rolls, decorated with a crust of crushed sugar cubes that sparkled like ice or diamonds, with a petal of candied violet in the center. Ross and Dem, hungry in the way one is after an afternoon of happy play, were clever with their money. Ross bought a penny's worth of sweets and Dem spent her penny on a plain currant bun. They shared the bun, half for him, half for her. They shared the sweets as well and had contentment from it. One Friday, as McNeil had come to look forward to, Ross and Dem entered the shop to the ring of the bell as the door opened and approached the counter. "Ah! Good day, you two. 'Ave ee come for yer sweets today?" With her chin tilted up to smile at the baker she asked, "How much is the sugar bun?" He raised an eyebrow. "'As that caught yer fancy, lass? Tuppence, love!" Dem's face fell. She only had one penny. Ross, without having to give it much thought, turned to Dem and said, "You can have my penny, Dem! I don't mind!" The baker looked from one to the other and smiled. "That's right 'andsome of ee, my lad!" Ross stood a little straighter, proud to be praised for coming to Dem's rescue. He pushed a dark curl of hair out of his eye as he put his penny on the counter. "May we have a sugar bun, please?" Dem set her penny next to Ross' and they smiled up at him, expectantly. McNeil made a quick scan over the tray to secure them the largest since it was clear they would share it. "Ah! I think this one will do!" He smiled over their anticipation over it. The baker had given them one that was larger than the others and they looked at it and each other with happiness "Thank you!" they said as he handed it to Ross in a twist of pale pink paper and they left the shop. McNeil set himself, arms crossed, against the back counter and watched Ross break the bun in half. "Oh!" The lament of them both. The violet petal fell off and ricocheted away. "Awwww..." "Poor ol' ducks!" He chuckled. They looked, forlorn, at the petal, fallen in the street and sighed. Ross handed Dem her half and they bit in, quite at the same time. It was the same dough as the plain currant bun, really. The sugar crust took it to a whole other place entirely. Their eyes met, lit with enjoyment. Though they lost the candied violet, the bun was splendid. They walked home. The bun was ample enough that they had to use both hands to eat their half of it and the sweet crunch of the sugar was wonderful against the soft, sweet bread and chewy currants, moistened with water with the barest bit of rum mixed in. McNeil chuckled as they walked off, smaller and smaller, until they disappeared.

It became their habit, from then onwards, to club together with their pennies and share a sugar bun. That next Friday, to be careful, Ross plucked the petal off of the bun and handed it to Dem, that she should have it. Through the shop window, McNeil watched Dem curtsy, like a lady, and Ross bow, like a gent, before breaking the bun in half and walking back home. The next Friday, to be fair over it, Dem pressed the petal in Ross' hand and bade him eat it. She broke the bun and they walked home. They maintained their Friday ritual. One Thursday night, Cynthia eyed the proofing tray and noticed a currant bun a shade larger than normal, but did not remark upon it until Malcolm was brushing them with beaten egg and crumbled bits of finely crushed sugar cubes over them. "What are you up to Malcolm McNeil?" He smiled. His mustache seemed to widen like an accordion. "Ah...You've not met our lovebirds, Ross an' Dem?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Oo's this then?" He finished the sparkling tops of the buns and set the tray in the oven. Cynthia jutted her cheek forward for a kiss and Malcolm obliged. Time for a tale as the buns baked. "When ee be out, visitin' of a Friday, they do come. Every Friday, if the weather be fair an' they's finished playin' out on the green. A young lad an' lassie who used to buy candy wi' 'is penny an' a currant bun wi' 'ers, an' they'd share the lot of it goin' 'ome..." He 'booped' Cynthia's nose -touched it with his finger with affection- and went to the sink to wash up some pans. She rested her chin on her hand, ready to hear more. "So, one day, Dem wants a sugar bun, but she's only got 'er penny. Young Ross steps right up, like a proper gent, an' says 'Ain't no thing, love, ee can 'ave m'penny too!' An they buy a sugar bun to share..." Cynthia grinned. Malcolm was smitten with these children, it was clear. "So they break it in half an' PING! The violet flung off an' fell on the ground!" Cynthia laughed "Awwwww..." Malcolm laughed as he dried his hands and checked that the buns not get too dark. "Aye, lass! That's what they said an' all, 'awwwww...!' They chuckled over that a minute longer and Malcolm pulled the tray from the oven to cool. "So, not gonna lose out on their violet, the next week, Ross makes sure and plucks it off the bun, clean as you please, an' 'ands it to 'is lady like she be a princess!" Cynthia clapped her hands in applause over this tale of chivalry. Malcolm grinned wider. "That ain't the best part! She curtsy to 'im like a proper lady an' 'e bows to 'er like a proper gent! An' they walks off, stuffin' their face fulla sugar bun!" At this, they laughed heartily, but with no meanness in it. "So they take it in turns," He continued as he mixed a small bowl of royal icing with a teaspoon and poured out a smattering of candied violet petals in a small dish. "One week, 'e gets the petal, next week, she gets the petal..." He smiled up at his wife as he dipped the bottom of a petal in a scant bit of frosting and 'glued' it in the center of a fresh baked bun. "So, Friday after Friday," and he blinked his eyes at Cynthia in a mimic of his customers. "May we 'ave a sugar bun, please?" They shared a smile between them. "So, it occurred to me t'think, 'Why shouldn't they both 'ave a petal? It ain't much more dough, ain't too dear...' He took a violet petal in each hand, dipped them in frosting and, with great ceremony, placed two on the larger bun, side by side. When the bun was split, each side would have a petal. "How old are they?" she asked, enchanted. Per pound, candied violet petals were the second most expensive garnish in the shop. They only used candied rose petals -the most expensive- for wedding and christening cakes. Malcolm was charmed by them if he made up his mind to make them a bun of their own. "I shouldn't think they're older than nine or ten..." Cynthia pretended shock and offense. "Malcolm! The very shame on you! Practicin' yer dark arts on naught but bairns!" They shared a happy smile. She tsked him. "Pushin' love charms on wee babbies!" They admired the double petal bun. It did seem to sparkle a bit more than the others."They ain't bein' pushed nowhere they wasn't goin' anyway!" His eyes crinkled at the corners. He was pleased with his work. "They 'ave the right of it, I fancy. You'll see. We'll bake 'em their sugar bun, of a Friday, an' we'll bake 'em a weddin' cake afore long..."

Time passed. Games changed. It was the younger children who skipped rope and played tag like a pen full of puppies. Ross, a lad of thirteen, and Dem, on the verge of leaving her twelfth year, found their playmates more apt to gossip and chat as girls and the boys took flashier dares and boasts turned towards fanciful tales of heroism and derring do. Ross and Dem still had their fun with the others on the village green and still shared a sugar bun from the baker. He was indulgent and always reserved a bun, just for them, that was a shade larger than the others and had two violet petals instead of one. This day, in a voice that was deep one moment and high pitched the next, Ross greeted the baker and requested their sugar bun. They would share it and then play and daydream among the apple trees until supper for they both longed for the earlier joys of childhood their peers had abandoned. They would chase and play, they would dream and make believe things as if they were quite real. There was furtiveness in this. They did not want to be teased by the other kids as 'babies'. McNeil looked from one to the other. It was a fair spring day and here were two well grown bairns a wantin' their bun, like always. A smile crept across his face. "Aye, lad. I'll slice it for ee, slice it clean like..." They smiled their agreement. They were content to break it apart with their hands, but this would be just as nice. The baker placed their bun on a small wooden board and looked briefly between them as he set the bun so the petals sat side by side. Ross and Dem had cause to watch and found themselves unable to understand why the bun seemed different. It sparkled just the same, the petals in their places, just as always...and yet...wasn't there something somewhat like nipples in their placement? What an odd thought... The baker set a serrated blade at the center and sawed it, gently, back and forth. Back and forth. A clean slice, he said. The knife was sharp and split the bun clean in half, back and forth. Back and forth. He put each half in its own twist of paper and bid them good day. They thanked him and left, not considering the fact that they forgot to pay and he had not reminded them. They walked for a time, each half still wrapped in pale pink paper. The slightest blush in the twist of paper. At length, they unwrapped them, took a bite in a thoughtless manner. Wasn't it a pretty day? The leaves so fresh and green? Was Ross' hair glossier now or had it always been that way? Did Dem's step always have that buoyant sway or was it the imagination? There were violets underfoot, a carpet of them mixed with clover, the first cornflowers and tiny white flowers that would soon change in turn to red, ripe, wild strawberries... A sudden decision to let Dem have his sugared petal rather than have it for himself. An extra sweet to please Dem his dearest friend. They smiled, shyly. He picked the petal from his bun and rather than hand it to her, he placed it in her mouth. She accepted it and his fingertip as well. She sucked at the tip of Ross' finger before he could pull it away and he felt a sudden jangle of all his nerves throughout his body. They froze that way, briefly. She looked at Ross with wide eyes. The taste of his finger as the sugared crust of his half of the bun gave way to the taste of Ross himself. It was pleasant. His finger slipped free of her lips. He looked at her with eyes just as wide as hers. Dem was beautiful in a way that was just the same and utterly different. Ross pondered this as Dem looked down, plucked the petal from her piece and placed it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and tasted sweetness. The candied petal, the barest crumbs of sugar on her finger and Dem. He tasted Dem. He opened his mouth in a daze. 'What does her mouth taste like?' he wondered.

They lay among violets and the sullied remains of their bun, dropped to the grass and forgotten. An innocent lust. A hunger in them that begged for something they both could not name. Could not form. But there were kisses to be had. Kisses enough to sate them, untutored and sweet. They had no guile, no knowledge for more, not yet...They knew that the other had laid claim to their mouth, that there was pleasure to be gained in sharing the secrets of each other's mouth. They held them close, they'd not tell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Spotify playlist by kind reader, Sweet Melissa:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/25EmVgeKaqKvqv0I0g3Xpj?si=WlQAVgJVScaa0FKyuEiWLQ


	2. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the victor goes the spoils

Dem leapt over the puddle that glittered a mirror image of the sky above among the grass and leaves of the orchard floor and ran on to the woods beyond. Her hair was bound up with an embroidered ribbon but tendrils of her unruly mane escaped in various places about her head. She ran onward and picked up her skirts as she ran, winching the fabric up, up, up, into her fingers, scandalously up. Past her shins, past her knees and out of her way to stride her long gait, as free as any boy, and press on for it was quiet and she had gained ground. She ran, full tilt, through the woods and made ready to leap over the fallen oak. Hopping over the myriad of tree roots and perilous rocks that she knew to avoid like the back of her own hand, she held fast her skirts, no fear or modesty, and went over the old oak's trunk with a gleeful woop and a happy giggle. She steadied her landing, knelt and placed a hand forward, raised her chin aloft to listen. Leaves crushed under foot in the distance. 'Judas!' thought Dem, 'He's caught up!' She ran past the boulder, their long agreed upon base, and ran onward where the trees were so old their trunks were gigantic. She would not stop at base, she would make Ross stay 'it' a while longer...

Ross, stamped his boot down as he ran, plunged through a shallow puddle on the orchard floor with no ceremony, puncturing the calm mirrored sky painting its surface. He lost sight of her but he could picture Dem in his mind. She'd need her skirts out of the way to jump the oak... Dem had no hesitation in raising them up as high as a strumpet might for it was a matter of pragmatism to have her legs unencumbered to run and she knew Ross would keep her secret. Ross and Dem were the guardians of each other's honor. It would be a shameful thing to admit that his ability to have his tops spin the longest of anyone was because Ross used Dem's technique. It would be a grave thing to admit Dem's superior hand clapping was honed by teaching and clapping with Ross- a boy playing at clapping was top, top secret, cross ones heart and hope to die! No girl could be seen to run and climb as wild as a boy and certainly not run, long legged and gorgeous, laughing and romping through the woods like a fairy in a dream as Dem did now...A tinkling, merry laugh...Ross grinned. If he could hear her laugh, he'd caught her up! When they were small, they had to slither over the side of the fallen tree trunk and hope to land in the leaves safe. This had been a mixed success over the years. They scraped their knees and both cried tears in their long acquaintance with the fallen oak. They'd been scolded by Prudie over the grubby state they'd come away with in their dealings with the oak more than once. When Dem was finally able to jump the oak successfully, she shrieked with laughter. From then on she always giggled her way over the side for the excited quiver of fear in her stomach always gave way to excitement itself and the laughter came, unbidden. The natural order of things. Had Ross considered things he might have fallen in love with Dem that day, her laughter brightening the very sky over them. But there were too many possibilities. When she hugged him close, crowing in triumph when Ross had finally clapped 'Hot Penny' without fault, when Ross smiled his admiration up at Dem, having climbed the tree that had foxed her for so long and then spent a lazy afternoon daydreaming, a branch apart, high off the ground, and Dem's skirt and underskirt wafting gently, eyelet fluttering in the breeze as she smiled down to him. Ross might have loved her the very first time she spoke his name but their love was true since they'd shared a raft of kisses over their Friday sugar bun last week. Being creatures of habit they felt it right that Friday would house the jaded pastimes of the village kids who felt themselves quite too grown up for the games of their childhood. A sugar bun from the baker, who seemed to smile quiet, discreet, collusion in their joy, and the secrets they held dear. They still played like the lighthearted children they had been and kissed like the fledgling youths that they were... Ross jumped the oak and steadied himself, down on one knee, hand forward as he scanned ahead and listened, alert and turning his head, chin aloft, to look about like a bird of prey. 'Drat!' thought Ross. Silence meant Dem had reached base. He ran into the clearing but the boulder sat empty. Ross grinned until his eyes crinkled. Dem had escalated the game. She was hiding. What is hidden must be found...Ross walked slowly. It would be just like Dem to hide near as he ran for the larger trees of the older part of the wood. Dem's tricks had slowly trained Ross in methods of strategic thought that would not shame an army captain. But, there was no sign of her here. Ross jogged ahead to the old, old trees and made himself keep a steady step. Dem risked peeking. There, in the clearing Ross walked, tall, still a gangly youth, his boots muddied and a scatter of muddy drops flung at his stockings, his breeches were soiled on one knee and, as he turned showing a grubby mark from sitting on the ground on his seat, even a leaf stuck there. He wore a dark green vest, unbuttoned, and a shirt of linen, snowy white and loose about the neck, turning in a circle, scanned about himself. He grinned. She knit her brow and then realized her blasted skirt had blown forward. She snatched it back. He'd not tip his hand in his glee. He'd seen the quick flutter and flash of a hastily pulled skirt hem. Even a seconds late glance the wrong way and he might not have seen. He slowed his step and said, in an idle manner to the birds in their branches, to the sky overhead, "Careful in the woods young maid, for the wolf is in pursuit..." A voice answered, "Careful in the woods young sir, for the she wolf lies in wait..." Ross ducked his chin with a smile, edging closer to the tree. Dem listened carefully, stepping left to the sound of Ross approaching from the right. Ross could hear her step and gave way, he did not change direction. Something in both of them knew this game was at its end. A new one had begun. Dem circled the trunk, just out of Ross' reach, Ross followed, feeling his blood surge in time with his heart. She trailed her hand behind her, let it play about the tree trunk as Ross reached forward and grasped it gently. He came round the trunk and they stared at the other, frozen, hands resting between them on the tree trunk. The breeze caught their hair. Dem's freed curls licked about her forehead like a halo of fire and Ross' forelock bowed and gave way to the strange multicolored portals that were his eyes. Dem never tired of looking into Ross' eyes. They were flecked brown and gold and dark green, like always, but held something new in them now. She could not see herself. Could not know that Ross' dark eyes mirrored her bright green and blue flecked eyes. That they both held the anticipation of knowing that victory was at hand. "You're caught..." whispered Ross, breathlessly, a condition of lovesickness, not running. She averted her eyes. "What does the victor demand...?" smiled Dem. Ross closed his eyes with a sigh. "Your heart..." He opened them and looked at Dem, hope in Ross' eyes. "Be mine and no other's!" Dem smiled an unabashed smile, Ross drank it in. She laughed, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling and her teeth gleeming, her right eyetooth, half grown, came halfway down in a little point, like a fang. It gave her a fey, fairy like quality as she laughed prettily. She smiled and Ross felt the same sensation as before. Every nerve in his body alert and prone in wait, the only relief, the only cure, was to kiss Dem. "Yes..." said Dem. They had a conspiratorial smile bloom between them as their faces drew closer, as their fingers became entangled beneath their chins, the scent of the woods, the bright spring air and the perfume of the other's breath could not be held for their mouths quickened apace and joined, sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strawberry Fields Forever, The Beatles 1967
> 
> Let me take you down  
> 'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields  
> Nothing is real  
> And nothing to get hung about  
> Strawberry Fields forever  
> Living is easy with eyes closed  
> Misunderstanding all you see  
> It's getting hard to be someone  
> But it all works out  
> It doesn't matter much to me  
> Let me take you down  
> 'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields  
> Nothing is real  
> And nothing to get hung about  
> Strawberry Fields forever  
> No one I think is in my tree  
> I mean it must be high or low  
> That is you can't, you know, tune in  
> But it's all right  
> That is, I think, it's not too bad  
> Let me take you down  
> 'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields  
> Nothing is real  
> And nothing to get hung about  
> Strawberry Fields forever


	3. Comin' Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separation

The opening door made the bell ring and the baker turned to greet his customers. "Good afterno..." McNeil looked from one to the other. Rather than coy smiles or happy grins, Ross and Dem looked forlorn. He set down the tray of cakes he was holding. "You lot 'ave faces down to yer chins!" He looked between them once more. "What's 'appened?" Ross looked to their double petal bun under the glass counter. He sounded sad. "My uncle is sending me to boarding school." he said, glumly. They both looked down into the pastries and sweets in display case without seeming to see them. Dem's fingers were entwined with Ross', a small intimacy they had come to enjoy recently. They looked disappointed and lost. "Oh! When's this then?" asked the baker. "August..." Ross answered, numbly. McNeil sighed. Ross and Dem only had the summer left to them. "Surely, it won't be forever! Won't ee come back? Come term time endin'?" Ross shook his head. "Uncle Charles wants me at his house when school is out of session and he says I have to improve my seat, horse riding, when I'm not at school. He told me I must learn my proper place, learn to be a gentleman, before I receive my inheritance. I won't be back for years..." said Ross, sadly. He grasped Dem's hand tighter. "Eh?!" The baker was shocked. Ross muttered, darkly, "Uncle Charles said I'm too far behind, having only had a governess. He said I 'have my head in the clouds and can't ride worth a damn...'" Ross glowered now. "He said Jud brought me up like a peasant." McNeil guarded his face. Ross' irritation and sense of insult on Jud's behalf made the baker want to smile, the loyalty Ross showed, but he remained serious. "Ee sayin' you's leavin' in August an' won't be back at all?" They nodded their heads, sadly. "Awwww. I'm grieved for ee, truly...both of ee..." They resumed looking forlorn. A subtle grief bounced between Ross and Dem and the baker. To have found the joy of love's first flower and then have it taken away from them through separation seemed to be height of unfairness. Dem spoke, quietly. "You won't have to bake our sugar bun anymore, sir." McNeil sighed affectionately. "I was that 'appy to bake it, love. I 'spect you lot will share one again, someday, eh...?" They nodded but it was clear they did not agree. Ross' uncle was cleaving their idyll before it really began. They were tall now, not the small youngsters they had been when they first entered the shop, years ago. They were strippling thin, still wide eyed and, in truth, still clinging to their childhood even as they were older. That was a blessing, thought the baker, they still had their innocent joys and dreams, they had an innocent love... "Will ee not be back then? Fer yer bun, I mean." Ross looked sad. "I'll come say goodbye in August, but..." McNeil smiled, nodded. They would bide closer to home and spend what time they had left together. "I'll bake ee a bun for the journey, eh?" Ross asked, shyly, timidly, "With two petals?" The baker smiled as he wrapped their bun in pink paper. "Aye, lad. Like always."

They walked the long way. They skirted the oak rather than jumping it and sat on base, their boulder in the clearing of the mouth of the woods that long served for base in their play. Ross fed Dem his petal. Dem fed Ross hers. They pressed their lips together in a tiny peck, a little kiss, and ate their bun, forlorn. Dem pulled her knee up and rested her chin on it as they held hands once more. Ross lay his head on her shoulder. They simply sat like that a while. It was June. They considered their summer. There were nine weeks in front of them. Nine weeks to be themselves and each other's before they parted. Ross would learn to be a gentleman of his station. Dem would work along side Prudie in their little yard and in the house. The house next door would be closed. Jud would oversee repairs to Ross' paternal home, Nampara, closed these many years. Ross would live at school. Nine weeks to pretend that their life did not change, if they could rouse themselves from their disappointment to do so. Nine weeks before they had to say goodbye. 

"I don't want to leave here, Dem..." Ross said in a tiny voice as he closed his eyes and sighed. Dem stroked his hair, gently, with her free hand. Ross felt her sleeve against his cheek as she stroked his hair the way he often petted Tabitha Bethia, and let himself feel cosseted in this quiet way, Dem tending him with love. "We have the summer..." said Dem, trying to conjure an optimism she did not feel. "Demelza, Demelza, Demelza..." Ross whispered, pressing his cheek against her collarbone. He put his arms around her as she set her foot back down, and they embraced there, on their boulder, in the woods that held all their joys and all their secrets. Birdsong and the scurrying of small animals mixed with the sound of the leaves rustling overhead. Sun dappled shadows of the branches above them colored them in sun and shadow. The fresh green leaves and ancient floor of dried leaves and bracken smelled of childhood. Childhood in a magic place that they loved. Dem looked at the woods beyond them with a melancholic gaze. "We should have a picnic..." Dem said, absently. Ross placed his hands nearer to her waist, snuggled closer to her chin more. "We should, and swim when it's hot at night..." said Ross. Dem kissed his forehead. "Yes! And we could climb to Eagleye..." Dem regained a bit of happiness in her voice. If they had nine weeks they should not waste them moping. He smiled. They always turned back. They never made it to the top of Eagleye, they were both afraid of the height. He sat up, "Yes!" Ross was excited by the challenge. "Yes! We'll make it to the top and not falter!" He smiled at her. They smiled into each other's eyes. "We can play every day!" said Dem. Ross averted his eyes, briefly. He looked at her again. He whispered, "I should like to kiss you everyday..." It was the sort of smile where one's cheeks hurt, where there is pain under your feelings but you smile too much anyway, to cheer the other, and one's self be cheered. Dem blinked for she would not cry. Not now...they must hold their joy. "I should like to kiss everyday...I want to kiss you everyday, Ross..." whispered Dem. They moved to do so. Ross felt Dem part her lips as he came near her, a gentle rush forward of her breath, and kissed her, under the chattering leaves and the warm spots of sun piercing the shadows moving over them. Her lips were soft. They gave way to her mouth, warm and wet and delicious. His lips were soft. They gave way to his mouth, warm and wet and delicious. They kissed with a soft sigh and Ross bringing his hand up to her hair and cradling her head like a precious thing. They kissed and Dem brought her arm around Ross like a treasured possession. In the sun, in the shadows, a true love. Ross pulled away and gave another quick peck to her mouth. "We have summer! We shall make the most of it!" declared Ross and he smiled at her. She smiled at him. They hugged each other and Dem stroked Ross' back once more. He was grateful for his heart hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comin' Back To Me, Jefferson Airplane 1967
> 
> The summer had inhaled and held its breath too long  
> The winter looked the same, as if it never had gone  
> And through an open window where no curtain hung  
> I saw you  
> I saw you  
> Comin' back to me  
> One begins to read between the pages of a book  
> The shape of sleepy music, and suddenly you're hooked  
> Through the rain upon the trees, the kisses on the run  
> I saw you  
> I saw you  
> Comin' back to me  
> You came to stay and live my way  
> Scatter my love like leaves in the wind  
> You always say you won't go away  
> But I know what it always has been  
> It always has been  
> A transparent dream beneath an occasional sigh  
> Most of the time I just let it go by  
> Now I wish it hadn't begun  
> I saw you, yes, I saw you  
> Comin' back to me  
> Strolling the hills overlooking the shore  
> I realized I've been there before  
> The shadow in the mist could have been anyone  
> I saw you  
> I saw you  
> Comin' back to me  
> Small things like reasons are put in a jar  
> Whatever happened to wishes wished upon a star?  
> Was it just something that I made up for fun?  
> I saw you, I saw you comin' back to me


	4. The Lovecats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the heat of the night

The days grew hot and it was a treasured refreshment to swim at the lake. Years ago, Ross and Dem ran about with their compatriots shirtless. Now, only the boys did so. Also, to Dem's chagrin, the girls sat along the bank, talked and tended younger siblings. They waded or dipped their feet rather than swim themselves. Dem envied the smaller children who ran around, half dressed, and splashed and swam the way they all used to. Now the boys had all the fun. The girls became overdressed spectators. They were, slowly, beginning the inexorable slide to becoming housewives. They were too young for beaus but, bit by bit, they were starting to conform and march onward to the day when they would marry and have babes of their own. Dem was vexed. It was damned hot and the boys got to cool off by romping, swimming and swinging from a rope that they had tied to one of the taller trees. The girls squealed and laughed as bold boys swung out and landed in the lake with a loud splash, to the exclaim and excitement of the lads already in the water. It was Ross' turn and he landed in the water with a triumphant laugh. Dem smiled but it served to irritate her. Girls did not use the rope. It was an immodest thing to do, a scandal of the highest order for a girl to be swinging about that high. Dem didn't realize she was pouting in her dark thoughts. Ross shook water from his hair and walked towards the girls. His breeches were rolled up higher and his feet were bare. A slight sheen of dark hair on his arms and legs, a crooked smile of mirth on his face as he bid them good day. They smiled and blinked their hellos to him. Dem leaned against a tree, watching. The girls flirted and Ross seemed not to notice. Ross made his way towards Dem, who could be seen to have a puss on her face. He knew the constriction of the girl's pastimes was making her annoyed. He smiled. She had her sleeves rolled up and her hair straggling limp from the heat. The hem of her skirts were already dry -the day was that hot. Beads of sweat at her brow and a grumbly look over crossed arms. He would have loved to kiss her, to cheer her, but kisses were secret... "Dem!" She looked up but did not smile. "Are you done?" she whined. Ross looked a bit shamefaced. "Yes, let me get my shirt..." He pulled on his shirt and they said goodbye to the others. Dem walked with her arms still crossed and Ross tried to jolly her back into good humor. "I swung the highest today!" bragged Ross. She rolled her eyes. "I don't see why the boys get to have all the fun!" groused Dem. Ross took a look behind them. They were out of view. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. This broke through Dem's bad mood and she grinned. "We'll have fun of our own," said Ross. "Come out with me tonight! We'll swim on our own!" Dem frowned again. "I'm not sure, Ross...Prudie won't like it..." Ross walked backwards, faced Dem as they continued to walk. "We can go out late and come back quiet! They won't even know we've gone!" 

To aid this subterfuge, Ross and Dem gathered what was necessary and Ross hid it, in a bundle, in his room. A quilt, to lay upon. Towels, to dry themselves, and an extra sheet to keep the quilt from getting too sopped with water. Dem promised to be ready at midnight and then they would steal away for their swim.

Summer nights are beautiful. This is often so. Starlight makes the sky glimmer and the moon showed tonight in a thin slice of a crescent that hung like a jewel. Dem, clutching an extra shift, waited. She would swing from the rope as much as she pleased and they would swim and cool off in this night that still held so much heat. Ross never told on her when she played as she chose, played like a boy. Dem never told on Ross when they played at clapping and made up games. They kept their secrets safe. Now was the dawn of something new. They had a secret to keep from Jud and Prudie. They would swim and not tell of it. They would creep back and pretend they had not done so. Dem hugged her knees and grinned. A rattle of pebbles at the window. Dem looked out and Ross looked up at her, holding their things with a bright smile. She crept downstairs and, with quiet patience, opened the kitchen door and silently closed it behind her.

They walked, without haste, to the lake. The sound of crickets and the occasional owl mixed with the light noise of the leaves that, just barely, moved on a hot summer night. They both sweated and it was not the 'clean' sweat of children. It held a subtle musk. It was not unpleasant. Ross, secure that they were far enough away to be unobserved or heard, tugged at Dem's hand and pulled her close. It was dark but they could see each other for the starlight made the sky glow cobalt blue and colored them and the land with light. She pressed against the bundle of linens as they shared a deep kiss. No preamble, no timidity. They joined their mouths with a quickness and lavished their tongues in each other's mouths. Ross sighed and dropped the quilt and it's tucked in towels. Dem's shift lay over her arm as they brought their arms around each other. Ross kissed her face and her neck and Dem sighed. Dem's breath, exhaled so near Ross' ear drove him crazy. "Oh, Dem...Sweet, sweet Dem..." he whispered. He kissed her mouth once more. Ross and Dem pressed their foreheads together, to calm themselves. Ross took a huge gulp of a breath and declared, "Onwards!" He picked up their things and they went to the lake. The lake glimmered with starlight in the calm, somewhat airless night. They lay the quilt on the bank and brought their towels to the tree. Ross took off his shirt and lay it over a lower branch. Dem started undoing her bodice. Ross' mouth fell open, slackjawed, and then snapped shut. She smiled, shyly, and stepped out of her dress, laying it with his shirt. The subtle light showed her body through the light material of her shift. Long legged and tall. Nature only just beginning to fashion womanhood's design upon her. They smiled each other's admiration. "Shall I help you up?" asked Ross. Dem raised her chin proudly. "I can do it!" Ross leaned against the branch by their clothes and watched Dem shimmy up the knotted rope. The shift clung to her for it was a hot night and the sight of this made Ross' throat go dry. Her hair was tied loosely with a ribbon and she began to swing and gain height with each pass. She was slight, lighter than a boy, but she was quick and determined. What heft she had she threw forward and she swung free and high and began to get near enough to aim at the water. She giggled as the quiver of excitement bloomed from her stomach across her entire body. It was the sort of fear that exhilarated her rather than frightened her. The best sort. She was getting over the bank and she could launch herself now. Ross watched her. She laughed and swung and hypnotized him in a way. He tracked this laughing sprite in a sweaty shift, clinging to her in a way most appealing, and he loved her that way. She was free and happy. She was not thinking of chores or being hampered by being a girl. She wasn't thinking of Ross, wasn't showing off. She was enjoying herself and enjoying the anticipation of leaping into the water...and then, "Wheeeeeeeee!" Ross tracked her arc and his head moved in time to the barest pause before she fell, laughing, into the lake with a glorious splash. She rose to the surface and swam, immediately, towards the bank. Ross rushed to meet her. "What's wrong?! Have you hurt yourself?!" Ross bent down on one knee and reached out a hand to help her out. She grinned. "I'm not hurt! I want to do it again!" Ross fell back on the ground and laughed until his sides hurt as she skipped back towards the tree, mounting the rope once more. Ross recovered himself and followed. "I'll whip the rope!" he called up to her. "Yes! Yes, please!" Whipping the rope would place her further out when she launched. She'd seen the boys vie to frighten the lad on the rope, try to spook him swinging him too fast, too high, but she knew Ross would not tease her. "Ready?" he grinned up at her. "Yes!" Ross ran, with the tail of the rope firm in his hands, away from the lake and let go. This helped Dem get higher than swinging alone would. She shrieked with glee and dropped into the water. Ross climbed the rope and placed his foot in one of the knotted loops to swing. You had to get your foot out of it, so you didn't hurt yourself, getting stuck, but it helped gain height faster than just standing on the knot. Dem tread water and watched. Ross worked quickly and made sure they'd not colide, he aimed to her right. "Tally-ho!" and he sailed into the sky, hanging the barest bit and the glint of his happy grin as he descended with an almighty splash, some yards away from her. He popped his head out of the water and treated Dem to the laughter she liked best in him. Unguarded, eyes scrunched and his mouth opened wide, unabashedly laughing. Utter happiness. They laughed together and the water was cooling. They laughed together and the moon was a milk white slip, piercing the sky among all the sparkling stars and the silhouettes of the trees around them. They swam, they raced in the water. Dem gave as good as she got and they had a win each and a draw. They splashed and played. They kissed. Teasing, sweet, small kisses, all wet hair and laughter. They mounted the bank and dried off. They draped the towels to give them a bit of time to dry. It was late but they did not turn back. They lay on the quilt and looked up at the night sky. They let their fingers play about each other's hands and hair. Turned in a lazy sort of way, to kiss his cheek or her mouth. To lay quiet and watch the stars and be together. They did not talk. They guarded against it. They would lament if they talked. Complain that time was short, that they were soon to part. They would return to sadness if they spoke, so they did not. Ross and Dem lay silent. A silent enjoyment. No sighs to pierce the night with sadness. They were happy tonight, cooled off on a hot night and beside one another under a sparkling veil of stars. Hold this. Keep it close.

"Shhh!"  
"You, shhh!" chuckled Ross.  
They were tiptoeing near the backs of their houses. Laughing quietly over the idea that their gentle noises might wake Jud and Prudie.  
"If you don't shhh," said Dem, "I'll have to kiss you quiet..." Ross grinned as if that would not be a hardship. Having put on the dry shift (behind a tree, with Ross honorable and not peeking) and gotten dressed, having gathered their things, having walked, hand in hand, under starlight, they were home. Ross put his face very near her's with a teasing smile. "Kiss me quiet!" he whispered. They shared a light peck and crept back into their respective houses. Ross winced at the gate creaking open. He waited a bit and managed to get back in his room in silence. The days went by and Ross and Dem were pleased to have gotten away with their midnight swim. If there happened to be a mysterious amount of extra laundry, Prudie did not mention it. If Jud slept better having heard the gate in the early morning hours, it was not remarked upon. For, if two can keep a secret, so can four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lovecats, The Cure 1983
> 
> We move like cagey tigers  
> We couldn't get closer than this  
> The way we walk  
> The way we talk  
> The way we stalk  
> The way we kiss  
> We slip through the streets  
> While everyone sleeps  
> Getting bigger and sleeker  
> And wider and brighter  
> We bite and scratch and scream all night  
> Let's go and throw  
> All the songs we know  
> Into the sea  
> You and me  
> All these years and no one heard  
> I'll show you in spring  
> It's a treacherous thing  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We're so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully  
> Wonderfully pretty!  
> Oh you know that I'd do anything for you  
> We should have each other to tea huh?  
> We should have each other with cream  
> Then curl up by the fire  
> And sleep for awhile  
> It's the grooviest thing  
> It's the perfect dream  
> Into the sea  
> You and me  
> All these years and no one heard  
> I'll show you in spring  
> It's a treacherous thing  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We missed you hissed the lovecats  
> We're so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully  
> Wonderfully pretty!  
> You know that I'd do anything for you  
> We should have each other to dinner  
> We should have each other with cream  
> Then curl up in the fire  
> Get up for awhile  
> It's the grooviest thing  
> It's the perfect dream  
> Hand in hand  
> Is the only way to land  
> And always the right way round  
> Not broken in pieces  
> Like hated little meeces  
> How could we miss  
> Someone as dumb as this?  
> I love you, let's go  
> Oh, solid gone  
> How could we miss  
> Someone as dumb as this?
> 
> A puss on your face: Do people still say this? To have an annoyed, grumpy expression on your face, glower.


	5. Dream Of The Archer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vows

It was not fibbing.  
Ross and Dem often hiked the trail that led to Eagleye, the imposing hill of sloped rock that was not a mountain, in truth, but might as well have been for its height and difficult areas. Jud and Prudie knew the children had better sense than to try to get to the top and did not forbid it. Ross and Dem made a point of seeing how far they could make it before they became spooked by the height. They never dared to reach the top. They stopped midway and would retreat home. Today, they promised themselves they would not quit. So they told Jud and Prudie they would hike to Eagleye and it was accepted just like any other time. They gathered up two leek pasties, two apples each, a jug of water and Prudie baked them jam tarts, to enjoy when they returned. They took a long drink of buttermilk, to set them on their way and they set off. Prudie watched them recede into the distance and then went about her chores.

"We're far enough, I reckon..." said Dem, looking over her shoulder. Ross looked as well. "Go on, I'll wait here." Dem scurried into the trees as Ross sat on a felled tree near by. He smiled to himself as he watched ants going to and fro, watched the shadows of the trees overhead moving over the ground. They would do it this time. They'd reach the top and be home in time for Prudie's tea, conquering heroes lauded with jam tarts... "Dem...?" Ross called, kicking aimlessly at the ground with the tip of his boot. "Coming!" Her footfall of crushed leaves became louder as she drew near and Ross grinned from ear to ear when she emerged, wearing his old breeches and shirt. "Ho there, good fellow!" laughed Ross. Dem beamed a happy smile and giggled. She wore her own boots and had her dress and shift secreted away in the crux of a tree they knew well. She hopped up and down, enjoying the novelty of her unencumbered legs. "I wish I could dress like a boy all the time! Race you!" She sprinted away as Ross left his log. "Hey! No fair!" Ross rushed to make up the difference in Dem's head start. She ran faster than ever and Ross was hindered in his speed by laughing. Dem's hair was in a braided plait, bopping up and down as she ran. They ran to the foot of the trail and Dem won, though Ross complained that her head start nullified her victory. She grinned from ear to ear, placed her hands on Ross' forearms and smiled into his eyes. "To the top?!" Ross grinned back, nodding happily. "To the top!"

The trail was easy at first. They walked it with Jud many times, when they were small. No difficulties. Clear of bracken, low shrubs and plants warmed by the sun and scenting the air with sharp, herbal smells. The dirt under foot sparkled in places from the minerals of the rocks here about. Ross and Dem knew this trail well and had little trouble here. They spoke little for they both knew the harder areas were soon to come. They were determined but nervous for all their bravado. They only ever made it half way before they turned back...  
Ross and Dem walked to the first challenge. The path had a drop about ten feet down to its left and they had mastered it previously, but not without a bit of trepidation. "Do you want to go first?" asked Ross, not certain if Dem wanted her front guarded or her rear. "You go first..." said Dem. Her lips were chapped from chewing her bottom lip but she smiled. They were both determined to be upbeat about this enterprise. Ross nodded and walked forward. Dem followed. They knew to keep looking ahead and they knew they had always reached a point where they were too scared to trust that advice. Too prone to freeze in fear over what ifs...They pressed on and the next part was easier because the trees made you unaware of how high you were ascending. Ross looked to Dem, and she mirrored his tense smile. They knew this part too. They knew the bend upcoming was the start of the dare. Could they really keep going after stopping every other time? Ross sputtered a bit. Spat and rubbed at his face. "What's wrong?" Dem narrowed her eyes in confusion. Ross grimaced, "I walked through a spider web!" She giggled a little. "Poor thing!" Ross smiled. "I'm alright!" Dem laughed as she walked behind him. "I meant the spider! You ruined his house! He has to make a new one now!" Ross rolled is eyes. "Do you want water?" he asked. "No, let's keep going..." Dem was looking up at Ross for the path was getting steep. He stopped and held out his hand to her. "To the top?" he asked. She squeezed his hand and smiled. "To the top."

Ross and Dem pressed themselves against the rock. It was now or never. "Dem?" Ross' voice was quite small. "Ross?" she answered, a little too loud. They must skirt this part to continue. "Look ahead, Dem, not..." his swallow might have been comic if they weren't so nervous. "...down." Should they fall, they would gain a wide assortment of scrapes, bruises and injuries in a tangle of rock and scrub that they could climb up again, but would be difficult. Dem closed her eyes and tried to think. She couldn't think, she was scared. "To the top..." she whispered. They could not switch places and Ross regretted it. 'I should have taken the rear...' he thought. They walked on. It did not improve. Ross began to shake a little inspite of himself. The path did not narrow but the hill beneath seemed to steepen with each step. "Dem?" "I'm here..." she kept looking at Ross' boot in front of her. If she looked at his boot she wouldn't look down. Don't look down. Do not look down. "Ross..." she whimpered. She froze. Looking back down the trail, she could no longer see it behind her. The bend was stark enough it had vanished. "Dem, look to me..." Ross started to become afraid. "Dem..." he willed his voice to sound pleasant. "Come along Dem, look to me..." Ross' hair blew about, gently. Their provisions in a sack over his shoulder. Ross' smile had a look of terror but it was a smile all the same. "Come along Dem...walk on..." She closed her eyes. She did not move. 'Walk on...' she thought. With her eyes closed she turned herself towards Ross. She opened them again and nodded to him, tersely. They continued.

The path turned once more and they gasped in surprise. Now the terrain was beautiful and easier. The ascent to the top was flanked on either side with flowers and blackberry bushes, huge trees, boulders and rocks bleached by sun on their tops, cool and moss covered at their bases. Bees hummed and wove through tangles of dog roses and honeysuckle. Ross and Dem turned to look about them and started to laugh. It was not in humor. They were experiencing a stark kind of relief. Ross wiped at his eyes. He had been terrified. If Dem had gotten hurt he'd never forgive himself and he was frightened of falling too. Dem sat on the ground. She had been terrified. She was convinced she would fall and couldn't quite believe she managed to keep going. She gave an involuntary shudder. She could have never done this in a dress... "Dem" sniffed Ross, "Are you alright, Dem?" She nodded. "Yes, Ross..." She rubbed under her nose with the back of her hand. "It's..." She scanned from one side to the other. "So beautiful..."  
They sat to collect themselves. They lay on their backs and did not move. After a few deep breaths, Ross turned his head to look at Dem. "Do you want honeysuckle?" She had her eyes closed and her smile was more herself. "Yes, please!" Ross got up and pulled down a clump of the slender, white flowers and came to sit next to her. They sat, content, Ross shared out the honeysuckle and they pulled the flowers off, one by one. They pulled the little string, released the drop of nectar and sucked the sweetness of it from the blossoms. The sun was warm and the scent of so many flowers and ferns and plants seemed thick enough to taste. They ate their food and drank their water. They picked blackberries and ate them too. They sat down together and Dem took Ross' hand in hers. They closed their eyes and sat a spell. He lay his head on her shoulder. After a time, Dem said. "I think I'm ready now..." Ross looked her in the eye, squeezed her hand. "To the top?" They shared a smile. "To the top." said Dem.

The hike to the top was steep but so beautiful that it was a pleasure. They had to be single file for a great deal of it but, nearer to the top the path widened. They held hands as they, cautiously, stepped forward to stand at the top. Here, the ground was flat and they emerged, timid and a bit nervous again. They looked from one side to the other in astonishment. The valley and the village. The orchard and their dear woods. Miniatures in the distance... "Dem!" Ross turned to look at her. "We did it!" Dem walked forward and felt her stomach roil from nerves. They were so high up but it was gorgeous. They dared to get a bit closer to the edge and could see birds flying beneath them. They sighed from the surprise of it. Higher than the birds! Ross and Dem stepped back and sat down. They watched their whole world laid out before them. As if they were gods... "Dem" said Ross, urgently. She turned to look him in the face. "What, Ross? Is something wrong?" He shook his head no, slowly. He grinned and pushed a curl of hair out of his eye as he looked to Dem with pride. "We did it, Dem! Even when we were scared!" He looked at her, earnest, determined. "Be my blood brother!" Dem knit her brows. "What?!" Ross turned and sat back on his knees to face her. "You're equal to any boy, Dem! You climbed Eagleye! We should make our oath like soldiers do! We'll be bound for life, Dem. I'll be your true blood brother and you'll be mine!" Dem looked at Ross with her mouth agape. She sat in his clothes, at the summit of Eagleye, and Ross was asking her to pledge their loyalty forever and ever, like a real boy. "Yes!" Ross pulled out his pocket knife and they sat facing each other, cross legged. Ross looked her in the eye. "You have to cut your hand..." She nodded, she was willing. Ross pressed his lips together and quickly cut his palm with the knife. The wound was about an inch. It bled at once. He passed the knife to Dem. She closed her eyes briefly. She cut her left palm in the same manner. Ross ducked his chin, staring at Dem in grave seriousness. "I, Ross Vennor Poldark, declare my oath! Demelza Lion Carne is my brother in blood!" Dem blinked in corresponding gravity. "I, Demezla Lyon Carne, declare my oath! Ross Vennor Poldark is my brother in blood!" They clasped their hands like old Roman senators and looked each other in the eye. "We are bound, Dem," he moved to interlink their fingers, even as they still pressed the wounds together. "Bound in a blood oath for life!" Dem's smile was radiant and Ross' grin was a picture of happiness. They let go and Ross ripped at the hem of his shirt to tie cloth around her hand and his own. They made their descent with trepidation and got to the base of the trail without incident. They had climbed Eagleye, and swore allegiance to each other like comrades in arms. Dem retrieved her clothes and dressed. They walked back to Dem's house. "I shall rub soot in mine!" said Ross, excitedly. "What?!" Dem looked at him, sharply, as they walked. "That's what soldiers do! They rub soot on the cut and then you can always see it!" Dem looked puzzled. "How?" Ross shrugged. "It heals with the soot in it and stays dark." he nodded his head, earnestly as he spoke. Dem, was not sure that was something she should do. "Should I put soot on mine?" asked Dem. Ross smiled. "You don't have to. You're my blood brother but you are a girl too. You know it is there and that we took our oath." Dem nodded. She would defend her blood brother to the ends of the earth but she wouldn't like a black mark on her hand...

"Ee look like a pair o ragtag soldiers, crawlin' away from the battlefield! Wha 'ave ee done t'yer 'ands?!"  
This had such a grain of unnatural truth within Prudie's scold, they stood before her as she peered at them from the door and laughed. They bent double, laughing with all their heart and soul. They had been bold, been scared, felt triumph and and made a solemn, blood oath like true, warrior brothers. Warrior brothers who wanted jam tarts and tea. Prudie sighed. They were sweaty, faces and arms streaked with dirt. Dem's dress was grubby in places from being stuffed in a tree, Ross' shirt was straggling ripped at the bottom. They were laughing like they drank too much mead. She rolled her eyes. A right pair of grufflers... "Ee needs a right patchin' up! Go 'ome an' wash up Ross. Come fer yer tea when ee be tidy! I ain't havin' cagged wi' dirt ruffians at m'tea table!"  
Dem and Ross turned to smile at each other and then Ross dashed off to clean himself up as he called behind him, "Yes, Prudie!" Dem looked up at Prudie, smiling from ear to ear, with her hair fighting the plait -a messy halo of curls that escaped the braid, sticking in all directions and her hand tied in a bloodstained rag. "Ee march yerself right in 'ere m'girl! Ee looks a fright! What 'ave ee done to yer 'and?!" Dem's smile widened more and Prudie chuckled in fondness. As grubby and bedraggled as she was, Dem clearly had enjoyed herself.  
"I cut my hand, Prudie."  
And it was not fibbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream Of The Archer, Heart 1977
> 
> Wayfaring warrior Soul, still wild  
> The archer stands  
> Arrow measured to the goal, sing of  
> Strong and living man  
> In his mind there is a vision wand'ring  
> Through the forest town  
> Telling of riches only given if through  
> The woods the way is found
> 
> Crying "ah! Beautiful dancers wake up  
> From your sleep!  
> Ah gentle romancers drink of Love  
> So sweet!"
> 
> Treasure glowing in their eyes, forest  
> Deepens dark their dream  
> "Keep to the pathway" he advise "the woods  
> Are more than they might seem"  
> "Heed you now the apparition bending never  
> Ending sounds  
> Call you into her mystery, are your eyes  
> Not sparkling now?"
> 
> Sighing "ah! Take you no warning,  
> Make no foolish fight  
> Ah, think not of morning, lie here  
> Through the Night!"
> 
> "Beauty take us!" they call "In my arms!"  
> They hear her say  
> Silken web falls, mist illusion rips away  
> "Helpless! Helpless!" now they scream  
> Helpless on the path he stands  
> And awakens from his dream singing string  
> Beneath his hand
> 
> Gentle archer ages old, release the aim  
> Free the goal  
> Roll your arrow to my Soul, release the aim  
> Free the goal


	6. Dueling Banjos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Noble Art Of Cornish Wrestling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this series, it is not truly necessary to know the songs that are used for titles and subtitles. In this case, the song in question has no lyrics, starts slow and speeds up. In general, that's all one needs to know BUT if the name "Dueling Banjos" does not bring this song to mind immediately, it might be better to search and listen to it before reading this chapter.

Prudie sighed in consternation. "Why do ee forever drag out tha ol' thing? We got scads o better ones?!" Dem shrugged. "Ross always likes this one..." Dem gestured to the quilt in her arms. Overloved, perhaps. "We sit on the grass anyway, there's not a reason to use a better one." reasoned Dem. Prudie sighed again. "Well, after t'day, leave it wi' me an' I'll put a new back on it. Ee be one more picnic away from rubbin' it out all together!"

The apples were just beginning to grow large. They still had the thin, juicy tang of a fresh new fruit, not the richer taste of autumn fruit, whose sugars were warmed by the summer sun and deepened. An apple to quench a summer's thirst. Ross and Dem ate snacks outside very often but proper picnics were not as frequent so they were special and had the anticipation of a grand event. Jud indulged them in a jug of lemonade. Prudie and Dem baked rabbit pasties and heavy cake. Ross picked a small basket of strawberries as a surprise and the meal, augmented with as many apples as they cared to eat, was a fine showing. They lay the quilt between the orchard and the mouth of the wood. A fine area for enjoying one's self, unseen by others. The victuals awaited in a nearby basket. Ross and Dem lay on the quilt in no haste to eat. Ross lay on his stomach, feet wavering in the air and making a careful study of all the colors in Dem's eyes as she lay facing him in the same manner. Her feet weaving about from a fluffy tangle of eyelet trimed hem and skirt. Ross rested his head on his arm and traced all the green triangles, near to him in the patchwork underneath them. Even Dem did not know that Ross valued this quilt because all the green triangles were cut from the apple green dress Dem outgrew the day they first met. He turned to lay on his back and looked into the sky. There were large patches of cloud and large stretches of clear, blue sky. He lay his arm above his head in a gambit to have Dem hold his hand. But he had left his underarm exposed. Dem had other ideas. She scritched at his armpit with her finger and Ross shrieked from the ticklishness of it. "I'll tell!" He giggled as she advanced her attack, quickening the speed and digging in a little more. The linen of his shirt was scant protection. "Ha! Hahahaha! I'll tell on you! Prudie will spank you with a-a-a hahahaha! With a slipper!" Dem giggled. Ross brought his arm around and tickled her side in earnest. She rolled away and Ross crawled over to follow, "No quarter, Carne! I'm bigger now!" She shrieked from laughing. Ross was getting his own back. When they were small, tickling was the one form of play that Prudie up and banned outright. Ross was small and followed Dem about like a lamb bleating at the sight of his mistress. Dem was not unkind but she often tickled Ross in a kind of dominance. Ross put up little resistance and Dem seemed to enjoy having power over him, tickling him until he was practically out of breath. Prudie was stern with her and told her to stop 'plaguing the lad'. Prudie told Ross Dem wasn't to tickle him anymore and he should tell her if Dem disobeyed. Dem bucked and shrieked and laughed and warned Ross, between these exertions, "I'll tell, ha ha! I'll tell Jud an' he'll send you to bed without any sup-hahahahaha! Supper!" Ross and Dem never went to bed hungry. Ross and Dem had never had a spanking. Ross and Dem teased the other with false threats because, secretly, they enjoyed the prospect of a tickle fight. Dem struggled about, trying to gain purchase with one of her legs and Ross held her foot. He sat up and started tickling her foot, scrunching his eyes in a demonic sort of glee as she laughed and tried to kick and poke with her other foot to make him let go. She twisted about in her skirts and the flapping eyelet and faint breeze of her dress flailing around made Ross snicker. "YIELD!" Demanded Ross. "NO! Hahahahaha!" Dem launched her right arm and mounted a counter attack. Ross jerked suddenly and let go her foot. Dem narrowed her eyes and flung herself forward. The one time she felt her dress an advantage, Ross groped about but couldn't get hold of her and she pinned him, in part, because her skirts bound his legs. She sat astride him and grinned. Ross knew he was in trouble. The glint in her eye was one he recognized. "Hahahahahaha!" Dem tickled his sides and Ross tried to move but she held him fast. They might have been seven again. He laughed the deep sort of chortle one could feel leave your lungs unbidden and when he could get his eyes open the sight of Dem tickling him like before made his cheeks hurt from smiling as well as her assault. "Hahahahaha! Oh! OW! Oh, ow!" Dem froze. She looked at Ross, concerned. "What's happened?! Are you...?" He grimaced and looked pained, briefly, before his eyes narrowed. Ross rolled over, taking Dem with him and now Dem was underneath. Ross gave her nose a gentle peck of a kiss and smiled a wicked smile. "OLDEST TRICK IN THE BOOK!" he snickered. "Ahhhhhhhahahahahahahaha!" Dem screamed with laughter. It was Ross' advantage now. Dem's bright laughter made Ross happy and he moved his hands about her sides to tickle her more. She got her hand back under his arm, in a move any opponent might grudgingly envy. She was determined and Ross sat up more trying to leave her grasp and losing contact with her in the process. She sat up and crawled towards him. He steadied himself with one hand as they sat up on their knees and Dem draped over his back, tickling his sides again as he bent double laughing. Her hair fell forward around his shoulders. He lay his cheek against her hair, for all he was laughing like a fool and the sun was warm and he was being tickled without mercy and he loved Demelza Carne. He loved her very much. She stopped. Ross was wary, though. He froze as Dem put her arms around him and kissed his neck. She lay her cheek against his hair and they remained that way, catching their breath and knowing, without having to say so that they had achieved a draw. "Shall we eat?" asked Dem. Ross smiled. Not quite yet...

They spent a lazy hour kissing. There is an art to kissing. If you have only kisses available to you in your arsenal, the breadth of expression that can be achieved by a kiss alone is quite impressive. A kiss can say, 'Well met, friend'. A kiss can say, 'You are the prettiest girl in the world'. A kiss can say, 'I think you are wonderful', 'Be mine and I'll be yours'. Kisses can be a promise. They can be a pact. They can share secret dreams as well as obscure them. They can ward off fear. 'Do you like me as much as I like you? I hope so...I feel so...' The air around them was warm and the grass smelled rich and green. They lay quiet, Ross stroking Dem's hair and enjoying whispered conversation of things they might do in these warm summer days. They stopped short of thinking, 'things to do before you leave...' They still guarded against dwelling on their inevitable parting. It made this summer more important, though. They were obliged to have as much fun as they could stuff into this summer and they held each second, each minute, each hour of it in reverence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dueling Banjos, 1973, from the motion picture "Deliverance" an instrumental song based on a traditional composition by Arthur "Guitar Boogie" Smith and performed by Eric Weissberg and Steve Mandell. 
> 
> I watched a video of a Glen Campbell/Carl Jackson 1973 performance of this song rather than the actual soundtrack version/movie scene.


	7. Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday

To spare his breeches, that they not be wet when they ate, Ross stripped himself bare and jumped in the river. He swam for a time but Jud called from the bank, "If'n we don't get started, we'll be feedin' 'em clouds n' breezes 'stead o vittles!" Ross smiled. "Yes, Jud!" Ross had little reason to smile these days and Jud was pleased to see having their last Saturday meal out of doors diverted him to some degree. The house was packed up. Eating in a house full of covered furnishings and what little kitchen goods were left would be a cheerless enterprise. Ross was quite down in the mouth over leaving for boarding school. It would be an imposition to dine with Prudie both weekend days. Saturdays, the gents provided supper and it was only fitty to execute their responsibility one last time.

Ross walked, a little under waist deep, up the stream. While they did need to provide dinner, this could not be done in haste. Ross' slim form drifted up the river as if he was a swan. The horizon line of the water met the sky and Ross entered a state of calm in which he became part of the landscape. Hair curling wet about his head, his fingers gently skimming the water as he walked himself nearer to a ledge of the river bank to his right. His backside steadily disappearing under the water as the faint breeze rustled the trees around him and the chirp of birdsong lent to the beauty of the afternoon, seeming to hang in the warm air as one heard it. Ross leaned to the right the barest bit. He kept his hand relaxed and peered into the water. The lazy circuit of flying insects in frizzled clouds of activity, hovering near the grass in the bank. Late butterflies who danced about the overgrown tangles of flowers before they went off with their fellows to their cold weather homes. They would be ready for autumn in a new home. Ross was still unprepared for autumn in a new home. Why should he be banished...Ross shook off that moping for he must concentrate. He knelt a little, the river water licking his navel. A nice fat one...slow, very slow. Jud used to say one tickled a trout like a whispering friend. Gentle, friendly. "Ee gots t'get 'em dreamin' or they'll up an' bolt..." 'Dream friend...' Ross gave a soft stroke to the underside of its tail with his fingers. 'Dream of syllabubs made of mealworms, dream of fat flies, trussed like little chickens on silver salvers. Dream of a veil of waterskimmers, all you can eat, dancing over your head...' with no haste, Ross moved his attentions further up the trout's underside. 'Quiet, friend.' Ross looked to Jud on the bank and nodded the barest bit. Jud tracked behind Ross along the bank, carrying a sack, open in both hands, for he would swoop upon the trout when Ross flung it on the bank. 'Dream friend...dream that you're alive...' Ross pushed his forefinger up into the trout's gill and flung it on the the bank. It could barely begin to flip its distress for Ross had injured it with his finger. A mercy blow, really. Ross and Jud grinned their victory. The job was not finished. Another fish must fall if they were to feed Prudie and Dem in style.

Ross climbed out and dried off. 'A tall drink o watur...' chuckled Jud as he considered his young friend. He'd be a well grown man, one day...he was still a skinny lad, still earnest and able to be young at heart, not rushing to grow. Ross smiled as he dried his hair. "I think that should see us all fed!" Jud nodded, "Aye, lad. Ee done a right proper job o tha..." Ross blushed at this praise and stepped into his breeches. They cleaned the fish and it might have been any other time. Any other pretty summer day. Ross had shaken off his mourning mood for a bit and Jud was glad. Ross learned to tickle trout like a canny old poacher and proved himself a good learner. Ross smiled a grateful smile. Though they would be apart often, for he would live at school, he would still see Jud at Nampara sometimes and not lose his oldest friend. Jud would not presume to pretend himself a parent, and Ross did not consider himself a son but they did have a deeper relationship than a lad and a servant. As they worked to dress the trouts, Ross could see in Jud's brief smile towards him, 'Ee be a good young'un, an' I'd a tousle yer hair if'n I weren't cagged wi' fish guts...' They had a low fire. Jud wanted the heat going slow, early, so they could add the wood by degrees and get it good and hot. They chose a place some yards away from their site. That way the smoke would not drift over them as they ate. They would need the fire going after the fish and potatoes were done for Jud would roast apples too and have them sugared like Black Caps, to have with Prudie's heart cakes. They had proper plates and cutlery. They had thick walled, squat glasses, with a little pedestal foot for lashings of small beer. They foraged wild onions and made good use of Prudie's parsley and rosemary from her potted garden. They lay the seasonings inside the fish with a generous sprinkling of salt and lay the potatoes at the base of the fire to bake as they awaited the ladies. 

"Dem?! Ee needs t'shake yer tail feathers, luv! They be waitn' on us!" Dem pouted at her reflection in the window pane. A proper pout of unhappiness. Ross was leaving, Monday, and she was a glum'un. "Coming!" Prudie sighed. It was plain in Dem's voice that she was sad. There was no help for it. Ross and Dem had lived in each other's pockets these many years. Grew up as close as cousins, really. This parting broke their hearts clean in half. Dem could be heard padding down the stairs. This summer, as any other Ross and Dem were barefoot nearly all the waking hours. Prudie, sighed again. "Come along, Dem. It won't do to bring yer mullygrubs with ee. Be a good maid and be cheery for 'em. They d'need a happy face t'cheer 'em." She nodded and brought herself to better form with mixed success. 

They could be seen in the distance. In Ross' darker hours, lying in bed after another trying day at school, he often remembered the sight of them, coming down to the river bank. Prudie, bearing a small basket of heart cakes, wrapped in a snowy white napkin, Dem, walking with a little hop in her walk, her hair neatly tied in a kerchief of white muslin with little flowers embroidered at the point of it in the back. He watched her sew it in the cold winter, indoor days. Still able to conjure flowers in the midst of ice and snow...Ross waved and ran to meet them. Jud watched the three of them, Prudie patting his cheek with affection, Dem blinking a happiness she did not feel as he took her hand and compelled her to follow him further down the riverbank. 'A kissin'...' thought Jud. They were becoming sloppier as the doomsday loomed. Stealing kisses in secret but losing focus, too close to the house and seen by Jud and Prudie in quiet witness. But they were good'uns, and calf love never hurt no one...

"I tickled our trout today!" said Ross. Dem, too quick for thought to stop herself said, in bitterness, "You never did teach me, like you said..." His face fell. She instantly regretted it. She turned and grasped his arm. "I didn't mean it! I'm sorry..." Ross looked sad. "I did mean to. I'm sorry..." Dem, kissed his cheek, a whisper, a bare touch of her mouth, "Sorry..." They walked hand in hand along the riverbank where a riot of lacy puffs of frail white flowers mixed about with buttercups and cornflowers, thistles of pink and purple blushed tips. Tiny flowers in all colors tangled up in the height of summer's greenery. Fat fronds of water plants and skinny stems of willow crashing into grass and ferns and clover as the waterside gave way to the meadow. Ross would stop, here and there, pick a hand full of this and a smattering of that and let Dem have a sweet posy of summer flowers. She put a cornflower behind his ear and they giggled over it. She wrapped the flowers in her kerchief, freeing her hair the way Ross, secretly, liked it best. The air was warm but there was a breeze today. It caught her hair gently and gave a faint lift to Ross' as well. Dem looked at him. Taller than her, still able to laugh in a similar way to when they were little. You could see his feelings in his face. He did not want to leave. Would these new schoolmates, these grand relatives of his know just how special and wonderful he was? Would they be so diverting and interesting that these gentry people would pull Ross into their world and not give him back? Did she even have claim to ask for him back? Would her blood brother disappear...? Ross looked at Dem and her eyes, so colored by all that was beautiful around them, the blue of the sky, the green of the ground. No high born maid or titled girl could ever be as lovely as Dem. She was his hero, really. Clever, good at games, patient with him, willing to put up with his clumsiness until he could clap as well as she could. A tiny flame haired sprite in an apple green dress who hugged a stranger with no hesitation. Brave as her name, with the heart of a lion, fast when she ran, determined -she climbed Eagleye alongside him, she was his brother in blood. His dearest friend...and he was leaving Monday... Their faces drew closer. "Dem...I will miss you so..." She touched his cheek. "I will miss you everyday..." An odd mixture of heart cakes and river water in this kiss. The first taste before it gave way to the flavor of the other. A soft kiss. The sort that is tailor made for young sweethearts on a pretty summer day. Where you lose yourself and nothing seems around you anymore. Suspended in the other... "Ross?! Dem?! Be time t'eat!" They stepped back away from each other as if they'd been burnt. They turned and did not see Prudie. She called from afar. Perhaps too far to have seen them. "Coming!" called Dem.

They walked back. Jud looked up from the fire at them in the distance. "They's sweet on each other now..." Prudie nodded, not looking up as she set the pretty, Poldark cutlery by each plate on their spread out blankets and rugs. She clucked a little chuckle. "Aye...poor ol'lambs..." Ross smiled, shyly, as Prudie eyed the cornflower in his hair with good humor. 'Wha them gentle folk gonna make of ee lad...?' she thought. She looked to Dem with sympathy. She had a good firm friend in the boy and a young blush of lovin' towards him too. A difficult parting... "I hear ee be pluckin' the trout out the river like a poacher!" said Prudie, fondly. Ross nodded. "Jud taught me!" he smiled. Prudie smiled. 'Leastways 'e still got Jud Paynter by 'im...he ain't gonna be alone...' 

They had a delicious meal of roasted potatoes and trout. A scatter of parsley and leaf lettuce gave a fresh tasting accompaniment and they ate, out of doors, in a grand style with plates and napkins, silverware and glass goblets of drink. They might have been a sentimental painting, happy country people, picnicking with their merry fire in the distance, at the riverbank. The young people laden with flowers and the older ones smiling their fondness for them as afternoon became evening. Jud speared apples on a stout stick and sat by Prudie fanning herself with a linen fan and talking of this and that as he turned them to darken and cook evenly. He sprinkled a bit of sugar over them after carefully pushing the softened fruit off the stick, onto a waiting dish. Prudie marveled at the surprise of Jud's ingenuity. He walked along the river and produced a covered pot of custard that sat cooling in the water all this time. They enjoyed their afters and Jud and Prudie sat, at the base of a tree, digesting at leisure as Ross and Dem went off again, to walk the meal off on this pretty night. They grew smaller until they disappeared. "Ee bin right good neighbors, Jud Paynter." and Prudie patted his hand with affection. Jud scanned ahead to see that the children had gone. Prudie opened her fan with a flourish, and obscured Jud's tender peck on her cheek, lest they be seen...

Ross and Dem sat back from the water for dusk brought more biting insects near the water's edge. Tomorrow, they would have Prudie's Sunday lunch. Monday...  
Ross lay on his back. The clouds were flame red, dark purple, softened pink at the edges. The same sky would remain over them both. The same air would surround them. But he would be gone. Dem gave a little poke to the flower Ross still wore. Ross sat up on one elbow and plucked a nearby buttercup to put in her hair. It showed brightly there. He stroked her hair and felt a lump in his throat. "Sit up..." he whispered. Dem sat up as did Ross, turning to face her. "Dem..." He kissed her, softly at first and then Dem suddenly moved forward, on to his lap, and put her arms around him. A sharp, moaning escaped them both, a quickening as Ross felt his cock leap like a dolphin and Dem felt her loins twitch with heat. A frightening need to want to stop and want to continue froze them for a moment. They looked to each other in a happy daze. A secret moment. A secret. They did not speak, but read each other's thoughts as clear as anything. 'You make me excited...don't tell...I won't tell...I won't either...kiss me!' They fell back and kissed upon the ground with a hot abandon that, paradoxically, made them start laughing. 'don't tell on me...will you remember this forever?, for I will...I will never forget...nor I...I...love...you...' A kiss for the ages for they straddled a dividing line. They were not yet adults but, now, they were not strictly children either. There was a hint of something new. They chuckled fondly between a hungry sort of kissing that was new to them and quite exciting. Their laughter died away and they had one final, gorgeous kiss and lay spent on the grass. Needing to recover from it all. They looked at each other, eyes lit like lamps and the source of each other's light. Dem placed a tender hand on Ross' head and they snuggled together, their breath evening out from the exertion, Ross' arms around her as they sighed their contentment to a darkening sky.

They brought back all and sundry in a crate with rope handles, Jud on one side, Ross on the other. And walked at a leisurely pace to their homes. They bid the ladies goodbye with a deep bow. Prudie and Dem curtsied their farewell and they were happy to know they would have their Sunday lunch tomorrow.

Ross helped Jud wash the picnic things in a grumpy silence. Grumpier, because they were packed in a crate rather than put back in the cabinets. Jud let him be, which Ross was grateful for even as he was in a sour mood. Jud seemed too quiet. But the time was at hand. That would give anyone unhappy moods and pensiveness. They had a nice little life here. Not to uncle Charles' standard, but what does he know? That thought made Ross more annoyed and he stomped into the parlor. Jud entered to find Ross sitting with one leg drawn up at the window sill, looking like a convict considering evil acts. 'We be a right pair...' thought Jud. 'Two gents, moonin' o'er the maids next door...' "'Ere, Master Ross. Ee be gettin' off t'bed..." Ross whined. "Why do you never just call me Ross?!" Jud looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Ee be tha master's son an' proper heir..." Ross was tearful now. "Why?! Why can't I stay here and just be m-me?!" Jud looked at Ross, grinding a fist in his eye from crying. "Easy lad, c'mon." Jud put out his arms and let Ross have a good cry. "I don't want to go! Why can't I have what I want?! What good is being their heir to my own house if he thinks I'm n-not f-fit for it! Why can't I do what I want?! I want to s-stay h-here!" Jud let Ross cry it out and, gently aimed him towards his bed. Ross got ready and laid down. He looked to Jud's silhouette in the doorway. The strange summer light, somewhat dark and light still, a dusk inside the house. "We all d'ave our place in this world, Master Ross. Ee be a gentleman an' yer uncle be lookin' t'make sure ee got yer proper place. It won't be forever, ee'll finish an ee can live where ee want..." Ross curled up in his bed, and whined. "Why does everything get taken away from me?! Why?!" Jud sighed. Ross was not being theatrical. Life was cruel to the mite. "G'night, Master Ross" Jud could just make out Ross' form in his bed. He lifted his head from the pillow. "Good night, Jud...Jud?" "Aye?" asked Jud. "Couldn't you call me Ross, just once?"  
"Sleep well, Ross." said Jud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want, The Smiths 1984
> 
> Good time for a change  
> See, the luck I've had  
> Can make a good man  
> Turn bad
> 
> So please please please  
> Let me, let me, let me  
> Let me get what I want  
> This time
> 
> Haven't had a dream in a long time  
> See, the life I've had  
> Can make a good man bad
> 
> So for once in my life  
> Let me get what I want  
> Lord knows, it would be the first time  
> Lord knows, it would be the first time


	8. The Best of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parting

Ross stared at the unlit hearth as he sat on the floor at Dem's feet. The gentle tug of Dem braiding a lock of his hair was a comfort. The gentle touch of her fingers twisting the strands of hair near his left ear, "To keep it tidy..." she said. She sat in Prudie's favorite chair and he felt her lean forward to retrieve scissors and thread from the work basket nearby. She wound a bit of thread, quite near his scalp, and cut the little braid away. It was like a tiny horse's tail. Braided tightly at the top, wrapped with thread to keep it from unraveling and ending in a soft, long curl, like a tassel. She put the scissors back and he leaned back against her knee. She stroked his hair. He stroked and scratched the top of Garrick's head, between the ears. Garrick lay his head on Ross' lap and they sat, quietly, as Prudie put the finishing touches on Sunday lunch. Warm scents of good cooking in a happy home that had seen so much play and happiness as they grew up. A nice breeze blowing the light voile curtains at the window in a lazy, gauzy wave, not so hot an August. The would eat in the yard, as they always did when the weather was fair, come summertime. Ross couldn't begin to count all the lovely things he'd eaten here, the happy times he'd enjoyed in Dem's house...Prudie entered and took a breath, about to tell them to wash up and eat. She paused. Ross lay his head on Dem's knee and Garrick lay his head on Ross' knee and Dem lay her head near the wing of the chair, the picture of dejection. She felt a tug at her heart. "Time t'eat..." she said. They turned to look at her with a stricken expression. A lock of Ross' hair lay on the arm of the chair and it made Prudie smile. "Come along then," she said warmly. "Dem, put that away in yer room so it don't get mussed..." Dem gave an abortive sort of grimace, as if her smile was forthcoming but died away. "Yes, Prudie."

Jud and Prudie who, in truth, were as unhappy as the children, talked of this and that as Ross and Dem ate in a gloomy listlessness. Treating the meal as if it was just another Sunday magnified the fact that it was their last. The house next door was a ghostly tableau of muslin draped furniture and wooden crates of household goods, waiting until they were wanted again. Tomorrow Jud and Ross would be gone. Jud would stay at Ross' paternal home, Nampara, overseeing repairs and looking after the place, closed all these years. Ross would go to boarding school. Part of his uncle Charles' regimen to bring him to proper form. Charles felt he had allowed the local reverend to play on his sentimentality, insisting that a quiet life with a governess was the right solution for his orphaned nephew. Mrs. Kemp knew what she was about. Ross had his lessons, his Latin. That was not the problem. The old caretaker who looked after Ross let him play all day and mix with the village children without maintaining the social order of things. Ross was allowed to run about like a feral animal, he might as well be a cottager! He was polite but it was the cloying sort of manners of a suck bottle who clung to his governess' skirts. He was too earnest, had no sophistication, there was also a ...girlishness...about him. When Charles sat in their parlor, Ross put their old cat in his lap while they were talking, attending the conversation but stroking it and petting it, all the while, in a way that seemed more like a girl. It was disquieting. He needed a firm hand. At school, Ross would be among peers of his own station or higher. Anything less would be an insult to the memory of his late brother. Ross would live among boys to become a man, have structure. Charles would see Ross instructed in horsemanship and when he became proficient buy him a horse of his own. When school was not in session Ross would live at Trenwith and learn to ride properly. He would take his rightful place in society. Ross would learn to live in the real world. That world had no room for peasants and village girls who run like the wind, laugh like a fairy and braid locks of hair tight to keep them tidy.

Prudie had baked so many sweets and treats, since Ross entered their lives, she did not consider the significance of Ross requesting almond cake today. It was the first thing he ate in this house. Ross asked for milk as well and it wasn't until Dem brought her own teacup to her lips that she realized why. She excused herself from the table and rushed upstairs to her room. She lay across her bed, her favorite retreat in her rare moments of despair, and cried. The clink and clatter of forks and teacups, the murmured talk of Jud and Prudie as well as Ross' monosyllabic responses were just audible through the open window. Dem sat up and used a corner of the bedclothes to dry her face, staring at the ceiling as she daubed her eyes in an attempt to will the tears to stop. She blinked and sniffed, trying to collect herself. The scrape of chairs against the terrace. They were getting up to go. Dem went to the window. Jud bowed to Prudie, over her hand, and lay his forehead on it, briefly, with a gentle reverence that surprised Dem. Prudie nodded and they squeezed their hands, the barest bit. Another person might not have noticed, but Dem had known Prudie her whole life. It was not just Dem who was losing a friend, it seemed. Jud took his leave. Ross stood looking to Prudie with a tearful expression. Prudie looked at him, this way and that, admired him, before walking forward, making up the space between them. Ross clung to her,sniffling, "I shall miss you P-prudie..." "Thur, thur, luv..." She stroked his back and cooed encouragement to him - how tall he'd gotten, what a fine lad he was...she looked up at Dem's window. Even as Prudie spoke warmly and comforted Ross, she knit her brows upon sight of Dem through the window, told Dem with her eyebrows that she should come down at once and see Ross off fitty.  
Dem stepped back from the window. She sat back on her bed and took a deep breath. Her blood brother was leaving and she should be strong for him, even as they grieved. She rose and went to retrieve her jewel box. She took a small braided ring of her hair from it and put it in her apron pocket. She went downstairs. Prudie saw her approach the bottom gate to the yard. While Prudie had wielded her eyebrows in a no nonsense manner, she gave Dem a sympathetic smile. "Ah, here she be..." Prudie stood and smiled into Ross' face as she held him at arms length for a last appraisal. "Ee be a credit to yer name, lad. Be a right proper Poldark. Ee do yer work well an' do Mrs. Kemp proud an' all, eh?" Ross nodded. "Goodbye Prudie." He was able to manage a watery smile and closed his eyes when she patted his cheek, just like always, like he might be back for tea tomorrow. "Come along, Dem. Ross'll be goin'..." She went and exchanged places with Dem at the gate. She gave a smile of encouragement to Dem as they passed. Dem strode to the lilac tree and faced Ross with a serious look on her face. She extended her left palm up and raised her right hand up, palm facing out. Ross smiled. He stood before her with his hands reversed. He had entered this yard barely able to manage Patty Cake and now Dem was demanding he prove his mettle by clapping Hot Penny. Those who could clap to tenpence were undisputed, playground champions. They drew out the word 'hot' as they prepared to begin. 

"H-ooooooooot Penny!"  
Hot Penny was a fast moving, devilishly hard clap. One clapped an intricate intro, over and over as they clapped from one penny to tenpence. Thruppence, sixpence and ninepence were clapped on the backs of one's hands only, the rest clapped palm to back. Getting through the game without fault, keeping to backs only after having to alternate is quite hard. Ross did fault briefly, just the once, at sixpence. He crinkled his eyes in mirth and consternation and they giggled over it as they continued. They clapped to tenpence and, in the tradition of the game shook hands and nodded 'yes', as if they'd come to agreement that the opponents "were quits", that they were as good as each other. Dem smiled. He had learned well. Ross having a single fault at sixpence was no disgrace. They became shy, suddenly. Ross took her hand and they stood like that, admiring each other. The slice of the knife that Dem made on her left hand was barely visible but you could feel it if you rubbed your finger over it. He did so. Dem looked down and pulled something from her pocket. She turned Ross' hand, faced it up, and placed a bright ring of her braided hair on his palm. It encircled a smudgy, sooty mark on his palm. Ross had rubbed soot from the hearth into the cut he made when they became blood brothers. Ross closed his fingers over it and rushed forward, to hug her. Dem lay a hand in his hair and hugged him with one arm as Ross enveloped her with both. He closed his eyes and lay his cheek against her hair. He looked to Prudie, at the gate. She smiled and ducked her chin, in a mix of affection and mischief. She stepped back, with a smile, and closed the top gate shut.

Ross snuggled against Dem tighter and began to cry once more. The unfairness of it all made him upset. Prudie KNEW. Prudie knew Ross wanted to kiss Dem. She knew and she didn't mind. He was leaving his home. Nampara was his home, as well as here, with Jud. This yard and this dear little house were no less. Dem had been Ross' playfellow and dearest friend. His brother in blood. His dearest love... "Well met, blood brother..." sniffed Ross. He rubbed a fist across his eyes, holding the ring of her lock of hair tight, and it was so like when Dem first saw him, standing in front of this tree, that she almost faltered. The urge to cry came upon her and she swallowed it down. Dem took a deep breath. There would be time for tears, and she would duly shed many, but she strove to be strong for her brother in blood. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiled. "Farewell, blood brother..."  
They released each other and Dem wiped under Ross' eyes with both thumbs as he huffed a little laugh. To the last Dem was strong. They looked at each other with a great deal of love and Ross touched her cheek, gently, as they kissed goodbye.  
In the pantheon of their kisses, this kiss was modest, a kindness. This kiss was farewell, but it also sealed a loyalty between them. In this yard, in front of the lilac tree, Ross kissed his best friend and Dem kissed hers. They touched their foreheads together and then hugged once more. They stepped apart. Ross bowed, Dem curtsied, and he took his leave.

A private coach is a rare event. The exceptional quality of the horses was a novely as well. All here about had come to like Ross and Jud, and many gathered around to see him off. Prudie smiled fondly from her doorway with Dem clinging to Prudie like a limpet, she might have been six again as she had her arms around her, chin on her shoulder as Prudie rubbed her back in a subtle, calming motion. Ross said goodbye to the village boys with the bravado that fit this occasion. They teased Ross sometimes, over his high manners and status, but they were firm friends who played together and accepted him. To look at him, it was a great adventure and his due out here, this morning. It was not going to be Ross' heart cleaved in half until he rode in the coach, unseen... A diminutive woman, blonde with startling blue eyes, dark blue eyes -near to purple, in a bright, modest, red dress and white apron, wearing modest, brown shoes but also white mob cap with a frill of very fine, clearly expensive lace came near the press of villagers. Hailed by some in the crowd as Mrs. McNeil, the baker's wife. She exchanged broad, happy greetings, in a cheerful Scottish accent, to this one, to that one as she stepped through to reach Ross and people gave her space to do so. "Master Ross," he smiled, bowed, and the crowd about them clucked and laughed gently, for young Ross was ever Ross in his manners. It cheered them to see it, their gentry, village boy. "Malcolm 'ad t'mind the shop, 'e bid me give ee this..." She produced a pink paper wrapped bun from her covered basket and handed it to him. Ross fought the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said quietly, "Thank him for us, would you?" Cynthia smiled. "Tha I will, laddie. Safe journey!" At that, the others wished him well too and walked back to the regular rhythm of village life. The coachman asked Jud if they might depart and Jud said. "Aye, just let Master Ross take 'is leave of 'is neighbors." Ross looked to Jud with gratitude and walked up to Prudie's door. Dem looked to Ross from the safety of Prudie's gentle hand, rubbing her back, keeping her calm, and smiled. Ross unwrapped the bun and broke it. He gave Dem half and then they traded violet petals. They gave each other the petal from their half. "Goodbye, Prudie..." Prudie smiled. "Safe jouney, luv." Ross looked Dem. He could see her strong resolve but her eyes were red even as she smiled at him. "I'll eat mine at noon..." said Demelza. Ross smiled. "Noon, then..." He bowed to them both and disappeared in to the coach that drove on, and receded until it was gone. 

The coach jostled and swayed on its way, for coach travel is what it is, even if the coach is a fine one. Ross was silent and Jud let him be. A sharp rapping sound on the roof. The driver was instructed to tell them when it was noon. Ross unwrapped his half of the sugar bun. He looked at it sadly. He didn't have much of an appetite, but Dem would eat her's and this was the last way to share the bun with her. Ross ate his half and stared out the window once he had finished, Dem's violet petal melting, slowly, on his tongue as the landscape passed by.

It might have been a walk to the gallows to see Dem carry her half of the sugar bun to the clearing at the mouth of the wood. To the rock she and Ross had used for base in their games, all these years. She did not feel hungry but she told him that they should eat it at noon and the idea of Ross eating his bun all alone made her tearful. She choked it down and drew up her feet, in front of her, on the rock. Dem rested her chin on her knee and just sat. She saved the violet petal for last. There were degrees of flavor. First, the intense sweetness of the little hard blob of icing that attached it to the bun. This was a pure, sugary taste that disappeared quickly as it dissolved. Then, the grainy texture of the petal coated in granules of sugar so stiffly that the taste of the petal isn't apparent right away. As that melted, the taste of the violet began to grow stronger. Dem stared out, into the wood. The petal melted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Best Of Friends, Pearl Bailey 1981
> 
> When you're the best of friends  
> Having so much fun together  
> You're not even aware  
> You're such a funny pair  
> You're the best of friends
> 
> Life's a happy game  
> You could clown around forever  
> Neither one of you sees  
> Your natural boundaries  
> Life's one happy game
> 
> If only the world wouldn't get in the way  
> If only people would just let you play  
> They say you're both being fools  
> You're breaking all the rules  
> They can't understand  
> Your magic wonderland, hu-hu-hu
> 
> When you're the best of friends  
> Sharing all that you discover  
> When that moment has passed  
> Will that friendship last?  
> Who can say if there's a way?  
> Oh I hope, I hope it never ends  
> 'Cause you're the best of friends


	9. The Logical Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becoming porcelain

Tabitha Bethia was a distinguished age now, but even she hastened her step and curled herself at Nampara's hearth in a happy remembrance. Ross giggled to see it, though his own feelings were mixed. He had the strange sensation of being taller, walking through memories in which he was short and the house was familiar and alien by turns. Jud hung back, quiet and alert, not wanting to insert himself into Ross' homecoming but waiting should he be needed. Ross went through the downstairs slowly. Still disoriented by the difference in his height and the subtle differences of the Nampara of the memory and dreams of a small child and the place as it was. It smelled the same. Just the same, and it was new yet unmistakable. The light slanted through the windows the same way and it fell across his knees rather than his whole self. Ross pulled a cloth off of the settee in the parlor and sat down. Tabitha Bethia walked over and Ross picked her up, for she was too old to leap the height. Ross felt her push her head against his chest and rub it about, as if to say, 'we are home...' and Ross petted her in a daze of emotion. Not sad, not joy, the realignment of his older self in the older space. Satisfied that Ross was not upset, Jud went down to the kitchen the take a first look. Greeted by scattering mice who might have chided him as an intruder, the first look was not so bad. A younger cat or two would not go amiss, thought Jud. The original lady of the hearth, Tabitha Bethia, being too advanced an age for vigorous mousing. Other than an understandable influx of vermin in a house so long unattended, it was not so bad. A preliminary sweep of the floor to freshen things and a quick mop would do wonders. The kettle was standing at the ready. Jud washed it and the cups, saucers and teapot. It would not be a true homecoming until the kettle was singing.  
The windows were opened to air the house, so long closed up. They took tea in the dining room. Jud allowed himself the presumption of it, though the regular way of things would be to serve Ross alone. Their relationship was too established to conform to that of master and servant. Jud would not disappear into the kitchen and leave Ross alone with a cup of tea in a house full of memories. They were too close for that. Ross smiled a watery smile to Jud, standing at the entrance with the tray of tea things. "It's just the same..." said Ross.  
After tea, Ross went upstairs and sat on his parents bed, still covered in a buff colored tarp. Ghostly visions of being dandled by his mother here. Ghostly remembrance of lying between his parents and sad smells, sad noises... He lay back and stared up into the canopy. He would live in Trenwith. He did not know that place. This house was his legacy and his inheritance. He would be master of Nampara... He went back downstairs, looking this way and that. Jud could see dust on Ross' clothes. He had lain on the old bed... Jud put a hand on Ross shoulder.  
"Welcome home, Master Ross."

Trenwith was quite large. Ross had little with him for Charles had purchased a new wardrobe and all the personal effects a young man required in preparation for his nephew's return to the fold. He walked with Jud through the wooded area that lay between both houses and Ross instinctively reached to hold Jud's hand. Jud squeezed it, briefly, and let go. Yes. Ross was older and should walk alone, be the young man he was. Jud patted his back. "Ee learn yer lessons an' be a gentleman." Ross nodded. " Thank you, Jud. I'll be back to visit at Christmas..." Jud daubed his handkerchief under Ross' eyes, lightly, to tidy his face without reddening his eyes. Smiled warmly but looked to Ross as if to say, 'Ee be Ross Vennor Poldark, ee show yer uncle ee be strong...' Ross nodded. "Goodbye, Jud." Jud tugged his cap. "Goodbye Master Ross." Ross walked on. The landscape was grand and huge. He was curious to see the stables. Uncle Charles set great store by horsemanship, and Ross' lack of it was a driving factor in Charles plans for him. He wandered about smiling, shyly, to the stable lads and grooms he passed as he looked about. They could not guess he was the gossiped about nephew. Ross walked among them with no airs about him and in clothes modest enough he might have been a servant himself. He walked along to see the horses. They were well appointed, large stables and the fenced paddock to work with the animals was gigantic. Ross walked into the barn where the horses were and looked, open mouthed, at them. A long row of grand, handsome animals looking over the gated doors at this intruder. "'Ere, oo ee be, lad?" Ross turned to see a man, slightly younger than Jud, looking Ross up and down as he held a saddle balanced on his shoulder. He looked agitated but friendly, busy. "I am Ross Venn..." "Oh! Ee be the young Sir!" The man tugged his cap. "Ee wants t'see Seamus, then?" "Seamus?" asked Ross. The man nodded. "I canna stop, but I can show ee yer mount. Fine hoss he be! Yer uncle got ee a good'un..." He beckoned Ross to follow down the far side of the stable and let Ross come, face to face with a new friend. "This be Seamus, I hear ee ain't well versed like, but he be a good'un an' ee'll be taught proper. Ee'll be a ridin' like a proper gent, to be sure!" Ross looked at the horse with a frisson of excitement. His horse. "Thank you..." The man tugged his cap once more and hurried away. He turned suddenly. Riffled through his pockets. "Oh! 'ere be a sugar lump, best to make friendly wi' 'im." Ross took the sugarcube and thanked him once more as he hurried off. "Hello, Seamus..." said Ross, rubbing the top of his head and offering a sugar lump. The horse accepted it and Ross giggled a little to feel the mouth of the horse nibble the sweet from his hand. The soft breath of the horse as they took each other's measure. A new friend. "You! Boy!" called a voice from the entrance. "If you're Poldark's groom, get your finger out and look lively! He will be here within the hour!" Ross turned. It is a strange sensation to see one's own eyes on someone else's face. Francis was fair, grey eyed and blond, to Ross' brown eyed, dark countenance, but their eyes were quite the same, the shape of their features marked them both out as Poldarks. "Cousin?" Francis stepped forward, smiling. "Hello, I am Ross..." said Ross turning from the stable gate and bowing his acquaintance. Francis made up the distance between them in a few quick strides, extending his hands to shake Ross', working their arms like a water pump, in his excitement. "Well met, cousin! Egads! I took you for a groom! You're a country lad and no mistake!" Ross smiled. He would be churned to butter if Francis continued so he squeezed Francis' hands and they stepped apart to admire the other. Francis was two years older at a time when it made a stark difference in young men. Ross was quite immature in comparison, the thirteen year old boy to Francis' fifteen year old young man. He wore a vest of pale blue brocade and lace at the cuffs of his shirt. While Ross' clothes were well made, they were quite plain. Ross jumped a bit, in sudden surprise, at a gunshot, a rifle. "Oh," said Francis with an indifferent flap of his hand. "Papa had to put down Dapples. Got his foot down a rabbit warren and broke his leg..." Ross' eyes widened. Francis spoke in such an offhand manner over the untimely demise of the animal. As if on cue, Uncle Charles came round the corner. Having handed his gun to a servant, the only sign of dispatching the horse was a scatter of blood across his white stockings. "Ah! I was told you had arrived! I see you've met Francis! And Seamus by the look of things!" His son and the horse seemed to bear equal weight. Ross shook his hand. This was the right thing to do for Charles grinned broadly. "We shall come up to the house! Francis shall room with you at school, it's all arranged! We'll make a gentleman of you yet!" Ross smiled, wanly. Suggesting he was a gentleman already might mark him out as uncouth as his uncle seemed to think him, so a smile was safer.

A dinner unlike the show put on for the parents and relations who remained to see off their charges the evening before. The elegant fare replaced by a miserly plate of dry bread, a slice of roast beef that was three small islands of faintly iridescent, pale flaps of flesh held by a cobweb of gelatinous fat. A roast potato, slicked with grease and mealy inside and a tepid cup of pease soup. Ross, who had been told by Mrs. Kemp that one should follow the host's example if one felt at sea, put his hands together. Ross and Jud eschewed prayers before a meal. An indifference to an Almighty who seemed not to care a great deal for Ross' happiness. Ross mimicked those around him and looked on, with wonder at the table of boys who watched him with one eye. All of them, at their grace, with one eye open in quiet interest at the new boy. They saw a well dressed boy of thirteen, a glaze of misery over him, still trying to become used to the chill and exposure of having had his hair cut off. Uncle Charles was pleased. A Poldark should not be mistaken for a stable boy, feral and shaggy looking. Ross had a modest pigtail at the back, a black satin ribbon to keep it exact, and his hair cut away on the sides. His forelock, gone, trimmed to a tidy, proper length. Like pulling a string, all the boys closed their other eye, and Ross said "Amen" a shade later than the rest. The headmaster frowned. "Poldark!" Both Francis and Ross looked to him. He sighed. "The 'dark' Poldark, not the fair... I shall have to designate now there's two of you... Ross Poldark!" Ross spoke, quietly. "Yes, sir." You mock Our Lord when you stare about like a calf in a pen. Come to this table in a grateful manner!" The other boys knew to feign devotion at the correct time. "Yes, sir." Ross' glum manner could be seen as insolence, but it was allowed forbearance. This unsophisticated cousin of the Poldarks would learn his place in time. Now was only the beginning and he'd only the attention of a governess in a backwater village. There was time to mold him into the young man he lacked to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Logical Song, Supertramp 1979
> 
> When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful  
> A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical  
> And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so happily  
> Oh joyfully, playfully watching me  
> But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible  
> Logical, oh responsible, practical  
> And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable  
> Oh clinical, oh intellectual, cynical  
> There are times when all the world's asleep  
> The questions run too deep  
> For such a simple man  
> Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned  
> I know it sounds absurd  
> Please tell me who I am  
> I said, watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical  
> Liberal, oh fanatical, criminal  
> Won't you sign up your name, we'd like to feel you're Acceptable  
> Respectable, oh presentable, a vegetable!  
> Oh, take it take it yeah  
> But at night, when all the world's asleep  
> The questions run so deep  
> For such a simple man  
> Won't you please tell me what we've learned  
> I know it sounds absurd  
> Please tell me who I am, who I am, who I am, who I am  
> 'Cause I was feeling so logical  
> D-d-digital  
> One, two, three, five  
> Oh, oh, oh, oh  
> It's getting unbelievable


	10. Hell Is For Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line between the devil's teeth, and that which cannot be repeat.

'That looks like a good foothold...'  
"Poldark!"  
'That tree looks good for climbing...'  
"Poldark!"  
'Maybe there might be time to try later...'  
"Poldark!"  
Ross startled, "Yes, Sir." Master Osborne frowned at him. "What is of interest out there to the point that I must call your name three times?" Ross had been so deep in his thoughts, he had not heard his name. "The tree outside." Ross remembered himself. "Sir." The other boys were silent, but smirking. "Come to the front." Ross looked at the other boys who seemed anxious for entertainment. He was the entertainment, it seemed. Ross stood and walked to the front, stood by the teacher. "Put out your hand." said Master Osborne. Ross looked at him, befuddled. "Why?" There was a subtle snickering sound in various parts of the room. What Ross would soon come to know, was even the boldest students took pains not to aggravate this instructor. He enjoyed any excuse for use of the cane. "Who among you wishes to join Poldark?" The room was silent. He looked at Ross in irritation. "I do not find it a laughing matter. I was told only young men of title and privilege were students here. I don't expect insolence. Put out BOTH your hands!" Ross did so, the teacher knit his brows. "Why are your hands unwashed?" Ross looked up at him, confused. "I don't know what you mean, Sir." He pointed to Ross' left palm. "This dirt on your hand..." Ross swallowed. This man was ill tempered, the answer would not help matters. "It is a cut that healed with soot in it, Sir. It will not wash off." Master Osborne scowled. "You are not only insolent and inattentive, you are slovenly as well, Poldark!" The teacher pulled a slender rattan cane from inside his vest, poised to strike and brought it down across Ross' palms. "OW!" Ross jumped back and yanked his hands away upon impact. The entire room was taken up with the astonished gasp of the other students. Poldark was either the boldest boy who'd ever set foot in the school or a dunce of the highest order. The teacher stared at Ross. A sort of thrill went through him. This boy was not insolent. He was entirely ignorant of school protocol. "Remain after class, Poldark. Sit down." Ross stepped back, wild eyed in his bewilderment. His palms had a red welt, across all of his right hand and part of his left, for he moved too quickly for the cane to finish. He sat down. 

  
"Really, Ross!" chuckled Francis. "To get a King's Fifth your first week?!" Ross was huddled under his bedsheets, crying. Francis sighed. "You'd do well to stop bubbering. You'd think you'd never been caned before!" Ross poked his head out from the sheets. His face was red from crying. Ross had to lie on his front. His bottom felt like it had been set on fire. "I haven't!" Francis looked at him in disbelief. "Here! You say you've never been struck by anyone until now?" Ross nodded. "Not ever?!" asked Francis. Ross nodded again and put the covers back over his head. "You're thirteen! How did your governess punish you!?" Francis was incredulous. Ross was flummoxed by the question. The idea of Mrs. Kemp even raising her voice in anger was unthinkable, let alone hitting someone with a stick. "She did not!" Francis looked at the form of his young cousin, quivering under the bedclothes. He sighed. "You beat all, Ross! The first canning you ever had is a King's fifth? By Jove, that has to be some sort of record!" Ross was still crying. Francis sighed again. "It will go down and not hurt as much..." said Francis in as much consternation as affection. A 'King's Fifth' left welts that were four horizontal and one vertical, across the previous strikes. "You must stop daydreaming! How on earth did you ever learn your lessons?!" The answer of course was that, after a week of working with Ross, Mrs. Kemp had the foresight to invite Dem to take lessons with him. They learned together and Dem's involvement kept Ross on task. He'd not tell Francis that, though. "I just did!" complained Ross. "Well, you're in proper school now," said Francis. "You'll have to manage. And don't give Osborne more excuses to reprimand you. He's quick to cane for anything and he's a nasty, old bastard..."

Ross entered Nampara, relieved to have the reprieve of Christmas break. He must go on to Trenwith but he wanted to see Jud. At this moment, Ross wanted to find Tabitha Bethia. "Tabby?" She was not at the hearth. He looked under the setee, another favorite spot. "Tabitha Bethia!" Jud heard Ross' singsong like call to the cat as he came to the parlor. Poor Ross. "Jud!" smiled Ross. Jud smiled. "Welcome back, Master Ross..." Jud frowned. "What they done t'yer 'air?!" Jud had not known Uncle Charles had Ross' hair cut. He'd lost a little weight as well. "Don't they feed ee in tha school?" Ross chuckled, but there was little humor in it. "Victuals are not their forte... is Tabitha Bethia in the kitchen?" Jud sighed. "Nay, lad. Be two new'uns in the 'ouse now. Tabitha Bethia passed on. October it was..." Ross loved their old cat, but Jud could see the grief that overcame Ross, upon hearing Tabitha Bethia had died in his absence held something else in it. Ross sat down on the floor and broke apart like a younger child. Ross had wanted to hold his cat, and curl up, and turn his mind off completely. He had wished for it and looked forward to it. A simple pleasure to salve the misery in his life. To gird himself before he had to go back. Everything was taken away from him... "Master Ross?" Jud came closer as Ross looked up at him from the floor, sobbing bitterly. "I envy her, Jud..." he sniffed. "EH?!" His narrowed his eyes. Something was very wrong. Ross looked up at Jud and whispered, brokenly. "I want to die..."

"Master Osborne?"  
"Who is that? Come out where I can see you..."  
The man did not come forward. "Ee be Master Osborne?"  
"Yes, I don't mix with vulgars, I have no business with your sort."  
"Oh, aye." A hand came out of the dark and dragged him into an alley. "Aye, I 'ave a bone t'pick wi' ee..." The chill in the air made the breath of the man's voice, so near, quite warm. Osborne could smell no liquor on the man. That boded ill, a thief who knew what he was about. He gasped, "My money's in my purse! My money's in my purse! Take it! Leave me be!" A derisive snort. The man hissed in Osborne's ear "I ain't no footpad. Ee mind a young lad at school, by the name o Poldark?" A gasp. Poldark was low hanging fruit, a sheltered know nothing with a cousin nearly finished at the school and an uncle who kept his mind on his horses. No one to trust or tell...or so he thought.  
"Aye!" The full force of the assailant as he took fistfulls of Osborne's coat and shoved him against the wall. "I knows your sort! I knows ee be messin' young'uns about!" Brazen it out... "Now see here! I have no idea wh..." He was smacked back into the wall once more. "Save yer breath!" he hissed at him. "I's here t'tell ee, if ee lay hands on'im again, if Master Ross d'say ought 'bout ee, I'll slit yer throat." Osborne gasped in horror. The man knocked him against the wall again. "Aye! I ain't like them gentle folk, I ain't waitin' on no judge or jury, the only judge I's listenin' to be the one tha sends me down, cause I'll swing fer ee!" Osborne felt a cold sweat come over him. "Do ee hear?!" Osborne nodded "If ee touch a 'air on 'is 'ead," He spoke nose to nose now, growled in his face. "If'n ee BREATHE on 'im, PHIT, yer dead!" Osborne nodded, vigorously, hoping the interview was over. The man let go of his coat and stepped back. "Ee can tell all them vipers in tha school Ross Poldark 'ave a 'and o'er 'im. It be my 'and an' I'll kill anyone who'd do 'im 'arm wi' it!" Osborne exhaled, "I understand, I under..." The blow came quickly. Followed by more in rapid succession. Jud fought the impulse to kill the man. A warning. A stern warning. Osborne tried to get up, groggy and tasting blood in his mouth, he feared his nose was broken. "Devil take you! You've broken my nose!" He struggled to say this for his jaw hurt, gone out of alignment. He watched the silhouette of the man walk away, muttering,  
"The Devil be a Cornishman. He'll take ee first..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell Is For Children, Pat Benatar 1980
> 
> They cry in the dark, so you can't see their tears  
> They hide in the light, so you can't see their fears  
> Forgive and forget, all the while  
> Love and pain become one and the same  
> In the eyes of a wounded child  
> Because hell  
> Hell is for children  
> And you know that their little lives can become such a mess  
> Hell  
> Hell is for children  
> And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
> 
> Its all so confusing, this brutal abusing  
> They blacken your eyes, and then 'pologize  
> You're daddy's good girl, and don't tell mommy a thing  
> Be a good little boy, and you'll get a new toy  
> Tell grandma you fell off the swing
> 
> Because hell  
> Hell is for children  
> And you know that their little lives can become such a mess  
> Hell  
> Hell is for children  
> And you shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
> 
> No, hell is for children
> 
> Summary, Peter Murphy 1989


	11. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wager

Ross sat with Jud, taking a bit of time to visit properly and digest the generous amount of food Jud provided for tea. "They be as miserly as anything o'er t'tha school! Ee be thin as a wraith!" Ross was slender but, at sixteen, he was a well built lad, strengthened by riding and occasionally helping Jud with outdoor tasks at Nampara. Ebb and Flow, the cats who held court in Nampara, were excitable and darling. Jud was often reminded of Ross roaming about with Dem, when they were younger, when the two cats would amble about together. A privately held thought. Ross never spoke of Dem. The thought of her seemed to pain him and Jud made no mention of the village, save reports on the health of the orchard. Charles had enclosed the orchard and the harvest was seen to by outsiders since Ross went to school. The happy feasts and busy work of harvest in the village were no more. The right of way closed, the fruit spirited away. But that's the right of the gentry... Ross was in fine spirits. He still hated school, but his time there was coming to an end. Ross would come into his due in two years. In the meantime, he decided he would wrest the orchard back and live in the village again. Charles was happy with Ross, happy to think him a gentleman farmer now that he's proved himself capable at school, a firm friend to Francis and polished to a shine that could rival an apple. Francis, who had taken a taste to gambling, might well take a leaf from Ross' book. Charles had a fine son and a fine nephew. The young girls from suitable families would come running. Charles was in clover. Two alliances of high standing instead of just one. Ross' original estate and his ownership of the land in the other village made up for his late younger brother's poor portion as second born. Ross took his leave. He mounted Seamus and rode back to Trenwith, rubbed his beloved horse down and tended him on his own, Ross would not leave that to the grooms if he was home to do so.

It is said that time heals all wounds. It might be that time simply obscures them. Master Osborne was badly injured, thrown by a horse, it was said. After that, he did not resume his interest in Ross. Ross was relieved, though he could never relax, never trust that it was a true end. He learned to behave in school as a good student should. Other boys flouted rules and got away with it. Ross, so tied to his early reputation as a fantasist, a daydreamer, Charles' unfortunate nephew, not any sort of proper heir, could not hope to be as careless or cavalier as other, more privileged, boys. Ross must do right for the school expected nothing good from him. The other boys would try to tease him, but he was a poor target. They couldn't hide his pocketwatch for he did not carry one. He was shy and seemed a bit of a goody goody, but he knew how to fight, he'd wrestled with other boys for years and knew how to handle himself like the tenants on their family's estates. Ross was strange. Not like his cousin at all. Ross was like a commoner in some ways. After some argument and experiment they settled on calling him 'Farm Boy'. Ross bore it in good grace until Francis let slip it that was his nickname, not because he knew how to tend chickens, and wrestle and work in the orchard. They called him Farm Boy because 'Ross was common as shite'. That annoyed him. Time passed and there was a grudging acceptance of him. He did his schoolwork well, without much effort, so well taught by Mrs. Kemp. He was likely to be first in all his marks. This amused Francis and pleased Uncle Charles. A scholar in the family would be a boon. And Ross learned to ride, as Charles insisted he do. Came to adore it as much as Francis and Charles. He rode Seamus alone and with his family. He became family, slowly but surely. They would race, they would ride trails at leisure and Charles taught Ross jumping with care and affection. Francis was always friendly even as he was more sophisticated, Charles felt Ross had been saved. Saved just in time. He could take his proper place in society and the Trenwith side would not have cause for embarrassment. He praised Ross for his seat on a horse and his strong marks at school. Charles was happy with him. Ross enjoyed riding. He loved his horse and the feeling of leaping over fences and the trunks of trees, enjoyed feeling of being kinsman to his kin.

  
Ross got along at school to some degree but never truly fit in. Francis finished and Ross had a roommate who did his best to ignore him as being the wrong sort of gentry. Hardly gentry at all. Ross preferred indifference to insult and he went through school, shouldering the slights of the others and avoiding the notice of the teachers by doing work they could find no fault in. Francis often counseled Ross to stop being priggish and join in with the other boys' bawdy talk and vulgarity. Ross could not. The abuse he suffered in his first year, a fact unknown to the rest, made him disgusted. The distasteful way they spoke of the village girls and servant girls also left Ross cold. He never spoke of Dem. The other boys would work find your weakness and tease you. He would not have them say the sort of horrid boasts and insults they said about other 'vulgar' girls about Dem. Ross would put Dem aside. He missed her. He feared her. Feared that she would be disgusted by him, so sullied by Master Osborne and turn away from him. Ross sought to remember her kisses, but it all became curdled by the fear that he was too damaged to ever kiss her again. Francis pestered Ross more as this last school year went on. By March, Francis told Ross why. "You're joking!" said Ross in astonishment. Francis laughed. "I'll not joke about a wager! I bet John Treneglos three guineas that you'd take a whore before the school year was out!" Ross looked at Francis with incomprehension. "Why on earth would you bet on something so sordid?!" Francis laughed. "Oh, give over! It's about time you were blooded anyway. Everyone else had at a kitchen wench, ages ago. It's not normal, Ross! If you don't make some sort of showing they'll take you for a sodomite!" Ross' mouth fell open. He felt nauseous, briefly. "Who would say that?!" said Ross, crossly. "Everyone! Just go with 'em of a weekend! Even if you just go to the place, you'll look like a man's man and I'll win my bet! It's as much Poldark family honor as getting you bedded!" Ross glowered. Francis gave him a pat on the back. "Look, just go, drink some punch. Pay the whore and ask her to fib. You don't have to do it! You just have to look like you did!" Ross crossed his arms. Even finished with school, the long arm of his worldly cousin held. "You're an 'Old Boy' now! I thought you'd be done pushing me around!" Francis laughed again. "Show some school spirit, Ross. They'll like you more if you join in! Throw off your books and good behavior! Be bad for a change! You've got one foot out the door anyway!" Ross rolled his eyes. "You are incorrigible!" "And you adore me for it!" grinned Francis. "Who knows, you might want to have it off after all! You might even like it!" Ross sat on the end of a chaise lounge in ill temper as Francis laughed his victory.

They played draughts, they ate with Uncle Charles in the grand dining room attended by footmen. Charles regaled both boys with news that one of their horses won a high purse (to Francis' private relief, he had won a great deal on it) and that Ross would be allowed to go back to the village in the summer to manage his lands. Charles loved how that sounded. He did right by Ross and Joshua. He made Ross into a young man of property and taste. To look upon them together one might even take Francis and Ross for brothers. All the rough edges were sanded off. Ross had a stellar performance as a scholar at school, and Francis let slip he would stop being a prude and join his schoolmates in an evening out. Ross had shed all his awkward, bumpkin ways. The last step was a good match. Charles would make inquiries when Ross went back to the village. Let all those peasants see what a gentleman looked like...

  
In bed, having bid his butler goodnight, Ross was unhappy. He did not want to sleep with a prostitute and resolved to use Francis' suggestion to pay the woman and pretend. Francis would win his bet, Uncle Charles would chuckle over port with his friends at his scamp of a nephew, a gentleman's pastime, a bawdy joke. Ross was also sensitive that he not be seen as degenerate. Master Osborne had made him so, perhaps... That was not him, he knew that, but it stung. This was as much to still wagging tongues as winning a wager for his cousin. Ross lay in his bed, forlorn. The bellpull was more grand than anything in Nampara. Uncle and Francis were used to all this. Ross supposed he was used to it too and the strange dichotomy of a school so renown and so cheap and miserly, so fraught with danger. He can't have been the only boy so misused, though Ross felt that way. Sex was a happy lark to the others. One did not have to spare a thought for the servants, some even got servant girls pregnant and even the fathers gave little thought to it. The poor maids got sent away... Ross did not think it right. Ross longed for a true love. To feel true love with someone who adored you in return and had the most beautiful, fringed, red eyelashes... Ross felt sad. He was tainted. Dem would, rightly, refuse to be close to him again. He often thought of pretending he had not been disgraced, but he couldn't see it through. His tainted mouth...Dem could not be sullied by him...Ross was losing part of his dream. That he work in the orchard and court Dem openly. That he ask for her hand and make her his wife. That she be Mistress Poldark and share his bed, in the village, at Nampara...She would want someone better now...someone clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkness, The Police 1981
> 
> I can dream up schemes when I'm sitting in my seat  
> I don't see any flaws till I get to my feet  
> I wish I never woke up this morning  
> Life was easy when it was boring
> 
> I could make a mark if it weren't so dark  
> I could be replaced by any bright spark  
> But darkness makes me fumble  
> For a key  
> To a door  
> That's wide open
> 
> Instead of worrying about my clothes  
> I could be someone that nobody knows  
> I wish I never woke up this morning  
> Life was easy when it was boring
> 
> I can dream up schemes when I'm sitting in my seat  
> I don't see any flaws till I get to my feet  
> I wish I never woke up this morning  
> Life was easy when it was boring


	12. Lady Marmalade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sisters of mercy

One unpleasant aspect of Friday nights was the occasional influx of boys from the nearby boarding school. They came clambering in, knowing Friday to be "safe", no chance of being caught out by adults who could recognize them and tell their parents. Spotty, dopey boys who thought they were Don Juan for pestering their parent's kitchen maids and flush with money from their holiday presents, nine times out of ten, ready to end it all, before it began, to go off like a Catherine Wheel at the sight of a pair of tits...a indignity to be borne...Margaret, who might be seen as Head Girl, a prefect in a sorority of working girls, rolled her eyes. She had a mercy mission tonight. Francis asked that she look after his cousin if he showed up tonight, a proper virgin. She said she would. Francis had the easy, sophisticated jadedness of the heir to a fortune, amusing and, truth be told, quite nice in bed. A favor. A favor to start another boring slog of a weekend in an elite cathouse. She expected another dopey, gentry boy with no flair and grubby coins to offer, even if he was Poldark's cousin.

"Look lively, Farm Boy! Once you get brought off wait for the rest of us downstairs. We all have to leave together so we can be each other's alibi!" Ross frowned. "Why should I be done before the rest of you?" They all, all six of them laughed. "Don't make me laugh! You won't last two minutes with a woman, you're green as this grass!" Ross glowered. He didn't even want to be here. Francis was such a nuisance sometimes... They walked on and the wooded area thinned out to the edge of the property. The manse has been a grand house, lived in at one time but now held gaming and unsubtle pursuits. Friday's were slow so the schoolboys made that their habit. Through the years the locals ceded the place to them until midnight. They never really stayed past eleven, but it mean unpleasant situations, like running into your own son or nephew could be avoided as well as not having kids drinking punch and boasting to their fellows, bringing down the tone of the place for the proper punters. Madame managed things well and the schoolboys were put up with. One can't have a brothel and a boys school near each other without some forbearance on the part of both institutions.

The seven boys crossed the lawn to enter. One would have thought going incognito would make more sense, but the boys wore their uniforms. It was a rule to be off the grounds in proper attire and be a seen in the community as a credit to the school. There was a second purpose, an honor that only four other alumni managed. They were welcomed with the false warmth that ladies of the evening were so adept at conveying. Even these young boys might be high spenders one day. Keep the punters happy. Ross looked all around. Luxury and light, candles and glittering mirrors, rich looking draperies and paneled wood walls. Heavy perfumes in the air. One could see a gallery hall, up on the second floor, so easy access to pleasure could take place in the front while gaming and entertainment could go on in the back without criss crossing. The doors upstairs leading to rooms where Ross would lie and say he'd done it. Say it happened just to be 'a sport'. Francis would win his bet and Ross could look as devil may care as his fellows. There were four, small plaques on the wall, in a vertical row, by a Grecian looking statue on a pedestal. Ross looked closer. Each plaque had a button like the ones on their school coats. Another boy saw Ross looking and said. "Those are the buttons of boys who upheld the honor of the school!" Ross knit his brows. "What? What do you mean?" Another piped up, "They were as good in bed as a grown up! If that happens the whore cuts the button off your coat and they put it up on this wall!" There were only four buttons up there. The school and the brothel had been here for years and years. Ross thought that was, possibly, proof of a shameful lack of good lovers in their school...

Drinks all round, cut with more fruit juice since they'd not waste good liquor on kids. "Well, well...I like to see young men, ready t'go..." said Margaret looking over the seven boys and recognizing Ross from Francis' description. The other six fawned over her, the dark Poldark just looked about the place. He was cute though. "'Ere, wots yer name?" "Ross, ma'am." He bowed and the other boys fell about in hysterics. Bowing to a whore like she was a lady. "Farm Boy keeps mixing up his dance card!" laughed one, "He skips the titled ladies and dances with the trulls instead!" Ross looked at him, annoyed. "You must always give a lady her due..." Margaret grinned. Both Poldarks were gentlemen. "Tha be a gent right there, come wi' me, lad..." The boys looked astonished. Farm Boy was going to lose it to Maggie! Ross, not understanding the pecking order, and not going to sleep with her anyway, let himself be led by the hand, upstairs. The boys watched with envy as they disappeared behind a door. An over decorated room, swooping draperies at the head of the bed. An ornate dressing table with a grand mirror and littered with cosmetics and trinkets. A decanter of some such liquor on a silver tray. Candles burning as clean as a church alter, good clear wax. A great deal of money to be made through flesh peddling. Ross stood like a lamb afraid to leave its pen and Margaret was amused by her guest. "So? Will ee sleep wi' me tonight, or what?" She smiled. Ross cleared his throat. The pretty, no nonsense, speech he'd rehearsed left him. "Um, if it's all the same to you, ma'am, I thought perhaps," She stood closer and let her hand stray down his hip. "Perhaps?" she mimicked. Ross cleared his throat again. Margaret knew her business. "Ma'am? I thought to pay you but not, but not..." She gave a tickle to a sensitive area. "Are ee sure? Tha cockstand be sayin' som'ing different..." Ross closed his eyes. Her attentions were not unpleasant. "Jud would say I'm 'thinking with the wrong head...', ma'am..." She laughed merrily. Your Jud sounds like a wise'un! Ain't many men can tell the difference!" She took pity on him. You sit over there an' cool off, lad. But we'll 'ave to stay 'ere a while or your friends won't believe ee had it off."

Ross handed her the money, set his coat next to him, and sat on the bed. Drew up his knees and sat quiet. She looked at him, this way and that. "I got my money either way, but I can talk an' all. Ee talk wi' me. Gimme a chat while I pretty meself up for the next'un, eh?" She sat at the dressing table, teased him a little. He was cute and easy to tease. She took her stockings off, she shook her hair out before brushing it in long, even strokes. "'E called you 'Farm Boy', why?" Ross looked away, to the side, arms around his knees. "Cause I'm common as shite..." he said, shamefaced. Margaret kept brushing her hair. "But you be cousin t'Francis..." Ross' eyebrows raised. She grinned. "Oh, aye! Francis don't tell no tales! 'E d'know 'is way around here! He weren't gonna let ee get into trouble in 'ere!" Ross didn't consider the idea that Francis told them ahead of time about his country cousin's subterfuge. She continued. "You be a Poldark?" He shrugged. "Yes, but my father was the second son and I didn't grow up like Francis. I didn't ride to hounds or have servants in a big estate..." She smiled again. "So are ee truly green? Ee ain't done nothing?" She watched Ross shrink into himself, curl into himself and look miserable. She was a professional. She saw him. She clucked with sympathy. "Awwwww, pet...someone got at thee...?" Ross blinked at her and put his face behind his knees. He nodded. She turned from the mirror to look at him. "Chin up, luv. C'mon..." Ross peeked over his knees. "That be 'is sin, luv, not yourn. You's pure. You ain't got no blame, lad." Ross looked sad. "How old?" He looked away again. "Thirteen" She tsked. 'Men be devils' she thought. "You's pure lad, wha'ever he done, you's innocent" Ross looked to her, maybe she was right? She could read the thought on his face. "Trust a workin' gurl, luv!" Her smile was maternal. "Tell me, Farm Boy, tell me how ee grew up, then..." So Margaret, preened and made herself up. She chose and discarded bracelets, powdered her face, scented herself. All the while, listening to a pretty tale of a golden childhood. Of playing out on the village green and apple harvests celebrated with feasting and dancing in the orchard and lovingly prepared tea cakes, tickling trout in an endless summer. Of sugar buns and make believe and Dem. In play, in dreams, in the loving care of the people who looked after them, in kisses and secret smiles, Dem. She turned to watch him talk and remember. The anguish of admitting his abuse gave way to a far off smile. Ross spoke of midnight swims, and daisy chains and a first kiss that any woman in this hellhole would love to have as their own, stolen from such happy pursuits when they wore sold into bondage, not much older than Ross and Dem. She smiled and Ross blushed a little. Dem had been secret for so long. That he should be talking of her to Margaret seemed peculiar. He looked bashful. "You's just a village lad with a sweetheart..." she cooed. "And ee kissed 'er goodbye?" Ross nodded. "After we clapped Hot Penny..." Margaret's mouth fell open.

"'Ot Penny?!"

Ross nodded again. She looked shocked. "Shut yer lyin' mouth! Ain't no lad alive can clap 'Ot Penny proper!" Ross said, "I can!" She looked him up and down and said, derisively, "T'thruppence!" Ross sat up a little. The strangeness of sixteen. He had seemed young and vulnerable in his sadness, in his reminiscing. Ross seemed more adult in his irritation. "To tenpence, thank you very much!" Had she suggested he fault at sixpence, that might be seen as grudging respect. To say Ross would fault at thruppence was An Insult. She looked at him, mouth agape. She stood, in her slip with one stocking on, faced her left hand up and her right up facing out. "Farm Boy! If ee can clap 'Ot Penny to tenpence, I'll give you yer money back!" Ross stood up and demanded a pinky swear. Margaret laughed like a drain. They curled their right little fingers around each other, to seal the agreement, and faced off.

"Hooooooooooot Penny!"

"Oooooooooooot Penny!"

They clapped, in a display of skill that each had to, grudgingly, respect. Three, six and ninepence had to be clapped on the backs of one's hands only, and the other denominations palm to back. Margaret, for all her bluster had a fault at sixpence and Ross raised a sardonic eyebrow as he continued to clap 'clean'. She giggled as they finished. They counted out tenpence and then shook hands and nodded 'yes'. She stood and admired Ross. The only thing one could possibly do after that was throw him on the bed and have a rollicking good fuck. But she could not. Ross Poldark was a marked man. Any girl who taught her fella 'Ot Penny had marked her man. She barked at him, "Take off yer shirt!" Ross looked shocked. "You said we wouldn't..." She turned to the dressing table and grabbed up his money. "We ain't! But ee needs to look like we did! Take off yer shirt an' bring yer coat! Come wi' me!" Ross did as he was told, took off his shirt and picked up his coat from the bed. Then Magaret shocked him again by wiggling out of one sleeve to bare her left breast. He barely had time to stare at it when she pulled him, by the hand, out of the room. She led him through the gallery to the room at the end of the hall.

Downstairs, the other boys had finished ages ago and, at first, thought Ross had left without them. Madame said he was still engaged. This was vexing to her because she wanted the schoolboys gone and they wouldn't leave without the seventh boy. They looked up from their cups of punch, totally shocked to see Maggie, breast flying free, dragging a dishabille Ross through the gallery to a different room. Ross was pulled into a room packed with women. A large dressing room with women getting dressed, drinking, lolling about on a bed in a corner of the room. They were readying themselves for the proper punters, later in the night. Margaret wriggled herself back into her top. By baring her breast she was vouching for the good behavior of a paid customer who had not finished while bringing him elsewhere in the brothel. They squealed and laughed. Margaret had brought them a kitten to play with.

"Girls! This lad can clap 'Ot Penny to tenpence!" She shoved Ross forward as they laughed with the same incredulity she had shown him at first. "Oo's best at 'Ot Penny?!" The whores, to a woman cried "Ruby!" "Ruby's best!" "'Ave 'im clap wi' Ruby!" Ruby, a pretty, dark haired girl stood up from the bed and faced Ross as the room took on the anticipation of a squaring off of Roman gladiators.

"Hooooooooooot Penny!"

"Oooooooooooot Penny!"

Ross and Ruby clapped in a dizzying display of playground skill. The sight of a cute young boy in no shirt clapping Hot Penny like a champion had them screaming the place down, stamping their feet and whistling, laughing and shrieking with glee. As they got closer to tenpence, it was clear that they were watching a knock down, drag out fight among equals. Margaret screamed out, "FARM BOY!!!" as she took a swig of brandy from the bottle being passed around and that brought another wave of screaming. They shook hands and Ruby curtsied with a look of total astonishment. Ross gave her a deep bow. It brought the house down. Margaret laughed again. "Gurls! Them toerags downstairs brought this 'ere boy t'get 'im laid!" The women laughed as she came to stand by him. "I say this lad be claimed! Any girl oo taught 'er man 'Ot Penny 'as damn well claimed 'er man!" They stamped and cheered again. Ross blushed. Margaret turned to him. "Lad, we's gonna fix it so ee be lord o the school, ain't no one gonna say ee ain't done it!" She called out "This be Dem's man an' he be lucky! Oo's gonna kiss Dem's man, fer luck?!" She pushed him on to the bed and he disappeared under a writhing mass of women. Ross could be heard laughing, somewhere in there. Margaret called out again, "Dem's man be lucky! Oo's gonna rub 'is cock fer luck?!" Ross lay on his back, suspended in a web of women, and had to admit, it was quite enjoyable. They released him having made him smell debauched and have the impression that he had serviced many women and was still 'up for it'. Margaret sat at the table and picked up a pair of scissors. "Bring yer coat, lad." Ross stood, put his shirt back on and brought his coat to her. She cut off his button to mad applause. "I'll get a demerit!" said Ross. They all laughed. Margaret held him by his arms and spoke in a way that sounded motherly. "Come Monday, you's gettin' three demerits, lad. We's gonna get ee in a deal o trouble!" They all laughed again, heartly. She smiled into his eyes. "Can ee do tha, lad? Can ee get in trouble fer yer Dem?" Ross nodded and they all went "Awwwwwww!" They giggled and laughed some more. "You's gonna get told off fer tardiness, untidiness and conduct unbecoming, an' tha d'mean whorin'!" They cheered again. "T'my mind, tha be the mark of a gentleman!" They all laughed once more. Ee 'ave to say wha I tell ee, you understand?" He nodded. She looked around the room. I'll tell ee, but I'll show ee som'ing too." Ross knit his brow. "Ee want t'please yer Dem, don't ee?" He nodded yes. She smiled. "Come behind the screen." She gestured to a folding screen and she whispered behind it for some minutes. Ross came back out, red as a beet. Margaret stood by the screen and smiled. "Good luck!" The women applauded again as Ross left. The door closed and Margaret snickered "God bless 'em! Tha boy's gonna damn well know where Dem's clit be!" As Ross left the women screamed with laughter.

The other boys watched Ross come out mussed and disheveled. Margaret came out and called over the banister to Madame. "Number five!" The boys gasped as Ross came downstairs as Maggie showed the Madame his coat button. The owner of the establishment nodded to Ross and he bowed. The schoolboys walked out into the night. Margaret chuckled to herself. She went back into the dressing room and looked from one side to the room to the other. It was meant to be a dreary Friday, but to look at them now, it was quite a party. There were women clapping together like they were kids, laughing and singing, drinking and enjoying a bit of time before duty called. Margaret realized she wasn't finished yet.

She picked up the bottle of brandy and went to open the window. The air was fresh and cold and she stuck her whole torso out the window. She looked ahead and saw the boys nearing the edge of the lawn, heading back to the school. "Oi! Poldark!" They all turned. She lifted the bottle, high over head and yelled to him, "Lad! You's the most fun I ever 'ad wi' a customer an' tha ain't any bit of a lie!" She drank down the rest of the brandy and threw it down to the ground. It broke with a loud crash. Ross walked towards them. These laughing, shrieking women who had done him a good turn. Margaret and the rest of the women waved and blew him kisses as he gave them a deep bow. He waved goodbye, skipping a little as he returned to his fellows and they walked back to school.

The story swept through the school like a flame, tearing through gorse. Farm Boy had his button cut off in the brothel! All the boys waited with baited breath as they assembled on Monday morning. Ross was absent? The headmaster started to speak as the door creaked and Ross walked in, late, in total nonchalance. Every student craned their necks to see the top button missing from his coat. The headmaster scowled. "Poldark! You are late!" Ross said loud enough for all to hear. "I am sorry, Sir." "What happened to the button on your coat?" Ross looked blameless. "It was removed, Sir." The headmaster looked displeased. "Removed by who?" Ross fought a smile. "By the whore, Maggie, Sir."  
Ross was told to sit after being informed that he would receive three demerits and the entire student body treated to a fire and brimstone condemnation of visits to the brothel. Ross bore it well and bore the amused and awed respect of his peers with good grace.

  
"Gods my life! Ross! You won me so much money I don't know what to do with it! I suppose you enjoyed yourself!?" said Francis, practically slapping his boots over the pile of winnings he got for betting on Ross going to the brothel. Ross smiled. "Yes, it was a good time..."  
And Ross only received two demerits. For tardiness, for untidiness. One can't have a brothel and a boys school near each other without some forbearance on the part of both institutions. The lore over the coat buttons was an oft told story. If the button was cut off of the student's coat, he had upheld the honor of the school. Boys took this to mean the boy showed his prowess as a lover. In truth, it was a signal between the brothel and the school. The student, instructed to say the name of the woman who cut it, was now shown to be a boy who had been brought to the brothel by his fellows and upheld the honor of the school by declining, Ross being only the fifth student to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Marmalade, LaBelle 1974
> 
> Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister  
> Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister  
> He met marmalade down in old new orleans  
> Struttin' her stuff on the street  
> She said "hello, hey Joe, you wanna give it a go?"  
> Hmm, hmm, itchi gitchi ya ya da da  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya here  
> Mocha-choca-lata ya ya  
> Creole lady marmalade  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  
> He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up (hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister)  
> That boy drank all that magnolia wine (hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister)  
> On her black satin sheets where he started to freak (hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister)  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya da da  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya here  
> Mocha-choca-lata ya ya  
> Creole lady marmalade  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  
> Hey, hey, hey  
> Touching her skin feelin' silky smooth  
> The colour of café au lait  
> Made the savage beast inside roar until it cried  
> More, more, more  
> Now he's back home doing nine-to-five  
> Living his grey flannel life  
> But when he turns off to sleep  
> Old memories creep, more, more, more  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya da da da  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya here  
> Mocha-choco-lata ya ya  
> Creole lady marmalade  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  
> Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?  
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya da da da  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya here  
> Mocha-choco-lata ya ya  
> Itchi gitchi ya ya da da da


	13. Love And Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return

Ross pulled a cloth off of an armchair and sat down. He watched it slither to the floor, in a pile, by his feet. Ebb and Flow immediately went to investigate the new landscape and quickly became entangled in it. The cloth roiled and undulated, with a head or a paw or a tail sticking out at different places. Ross chuckled to see it and bent down to help them out of it. Jud came in and tsked. "Them cats can't stay outta trouble..." But there was affection for them in the comment. They had not been from the same litter but they were fast friends all the same. This house was a smaller domain than their previous home, Nampara, but they seemed determined to take it over in the spirit of adventure they so often showed. Ross put Ebb on his lap but, unlike sedentary Tabitha Bethia, Ebb jumped back down and ran after Flow. Ross sat back and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. Jud could tell the boy was debating going next door. How to go next door. Through the gate, as if nothing had changed? Through the front like a boy of his station should, having been three years away? In this, Jud could give Ross no guidance. But he would not go to Prudie before Ross did, and so even, sensible, patient Jud was starting to become impatient that Ross make up his mind. "Ee goin' over?" Ross ran his hand through his hair. The shortness of it annoyed him. "Yes." 

  
A knock at the door this quiet afternoon. Prudie wiped her hands on a teatowel, crossed through the house and opened it. "Lord above! Who be this fine gentleman?!" He closed his eyes as she patted his cheek, just like always. "An' what 'as ee done wi' Master Ross?!" teased Prudie as she ran a gentle hand over his short hair in wonder. "Hello, Prudie!" "Awwwwww, lad," he fell into her embrace with gratitude. "Ee be a sight fer sore eyes, lamb..." Ross opened his eyes and noticed Garrick was not at the hearth. She felt him startle. She stepped back and nodded. Sighed. "Aye, Garrick passed on, luv. But 'e 'ad a good long life..." Ross's lips pressed together. He looked to the hearth and then back at Prudie. "I am sorry, Prudie..." She hugged him again. A young man, taller than her, all arms and legs. "Will ee stay long?" Ross stood up and smiled. "Yes, Prudie! Uncle is letting me take back the orchard, it won't be truly mine until I'm eighteen, but I'm back!" She covered her mouth with both hands and looked upon Ross fondly. "Oh!" She hugged him again, the feeling of home from it made Ross a bit tremble lipped, but he settled himself. Prudie sensed it too, Ross was grown, able to control the sort of emotions that often overwhelmed him when he was younger. "Is Dem here?" He felt her smile widen against his neck. She released him. "Aye, she be in the yard, luv. Come through..."

Again, the subtleties of having been a bit shorter, when he was last here. He went to the double gate, like so many times before. He looked over the bottom gate to see Dem, facing away from the house, taking wet sheets from the laundry basket and pinning them up. A white kerchief tied over her hair with a flying swallow, embroidered at the back, a more ambitious design than the flowers she used to sew. Her dress was red, plain red, and her apron a flax colored beige. She still had on a sweets pocket and, by the outline of it, still carried her knife. She was taller and womanhood's design upon her was now unmistakable. Ross willed her to turn around. Feared it too. Feared her turning around as she, nimbly, pinned the last sheet up. She lifted the empty basket, a hand on each handle. She turned around, to bring it in the house and gasped.

Having gotten the sheets done, there might be time to walk about before tea. Dem lifted the empty basket and turned to go in. There, at the gate, was a young man who looked very much like Ross, if Ross had short hair, and wore the clothes of a titled lord... She gasped in surprise. Stood stock still in surprise. Ross' smile was bashful, he looked at her with the eyes she'd so missed and stayed quiet. He had on a shirt, as white as any other from before, but there was lace at the cuffs. His vest was a dark green brocade. Fine and elegant, with the light glistening against it, even indoors. His let his hand rest on the gate. "Hello, Dem..." She put the basket down and rushed to the gate but when she sought a kiss...had Ross slightly turned his mouth away...? He kissed her cheek, gently. She shook her sense of surprise at that. It had been three years, after all... "Bad pennies return..." she smiled, wanting guidance that Ross couldn't seem to give her. He looked down, briefly, 'bad...soiled...' He looked back to her. "I suppose..." Prudie, sensing an element of strain in them both, came to Ross' side. "I's going across, t'see if'n ee an' Master Paynter might stop fer supper tonight. I won't be long..." She gently pushed at the gate, gave Ross a subtle command with her eyebrows to enter the yard. He obeyed. She crossed the yard to use the side gate. They must make their own way of it. Thought Prudie, thought Jud who's heart skipped a beat as he heard the side gate. He straightened his shirt and looked briefly at the mirrored back of the breakfront in the parlor, to be certain he was fitty, and went to open the door. Prudie entered. Ross and Dem watched Prudie enter the house and that reprieve let them settle a little.

Dem, sensing she was now a hostess rather than a blood brother, bade this elegant guest to sit down on the bench in the yard. They talked 'at' each other. Not 'to' each other. Of school, of the village. Of Jud, of Prudie. Of Tabitha Bethia, of Garrick. Of...nothing. Prudie returned, slightly flushed, and told Ross and Dem they would all sup together in the yard, just like old times. Their smiles were forced, how lovely... At dinner, Prudie noticed Demelza was quiet. Ross spoke of his horse, and school and his cousin and uncle. His hope to have next harvest to be as it used to be -the work of the village rather than the faceless outsiders who bore the apples away in the years Ross was at school. He wanted their harvest party once more. He wanted to buy a proper press and make cider. And this, and that and the other, all that did not seem to hold Dem's interest. Jud could see it as well. Dem could see that this stranger, for he felt like a stranger, looked like Ross but had become the smart young gentry boy he had always been destined to be. The little dream that her schooling with Mrs. Kemp was enough to keep up with him, shriveled like a sheaf of bluebells fading. This boy was meant for better than her. It was a kindness, perhaps, that he not kiss her as before. Not let her back into that life. Kiss her, sweetly, on the cheek, a kindness. Be kind to the village maid next door. Don't hurt her all at once...be kind before going back to his people...

Two days went by. This also worked to alienate Dem. She was too proud to ask Ross to come out and vexed that he'd stayed away. But they were older now. What could she say? 'Watch me do my chores, and then sit by the hearth?' They were not thirteen and twelve anymore. Ross would be seventeen this winter, he would be busy with his apples. He would find some pretty, rich girl to marry and say 'Oh! This is my friend, Dem! We grew up next door! See my hand? We are blood brothers! How diverting...' Dem kicked a rock in her path as she carried her basket back from market. Almond flour...a cake for a stranger... She came through the front door and brought the groceries to the kitchen. Prudie, gently, suggested to Dem that she call on Ross and was surprised to hear Dem sniff, haughtly, "I like my Ross the way he used to be... Ross, now, is far too grand for the likes of me!" And she flounced off. "I'm taking a walk, Prudie. I'll be back by tea..."

She went the long way round. She'd no interest in jumping the oak, no point in it. Dem often went to sit and think at the rock at the mouth of the wood. It had been base for games, years ago. Even now, her annoyance didn't allow her to think 'our games'. She was going to have to adjust, she thought. 'Too much time has passed and Ross doesn't love me anymore, maybe it wasn't love, but it felt like it...'  
Ross heard footsteps in the leaves halt. He raised his head and saw Dem, staring at him some yards away. Dem froze. Ross was already sitting there. He had no vest but his shirt was still a fine, lace trimmed one. His grey breeches were made of a finer worsted wool. Fine details, but more like his old self. She felt hopeful. Maybe it was just nerves, off to a bad start. Too soon to resume right away, maybe now...maybe... She ran towards Ross and stood over him, he looked down. "Hello, Dem..." It made her angry. Even now he avoided her, sought to wriggle away. "I suppose I should say 'hello', but I don't know the proper form of address!" Ross could hear Dem mocking him. Would it be better if she hated him? If she rejected him herself, he would not have to tell her... "So, your Lordship!" she crossed her arms in irritation. "Is it permissible to sit on base or am I too common to join the likes of you?!" Ross moved over, to make room for her. She sat, arms still crossed, trying to keep hold of her grievance. Being near him again made her feel jittery. "You cut your hair..." There was disappointment in her voice. Ross turned then. The slightest, barest glimmer of the Ross Dem remembered as he said, shyly, "It will grow back..." He looked into her face, he lamented his fate. He would not have her, some other boy would be her man and she'd sit her babies on his knee and say to them 'Say hello to Uncle Ross!' He looked down, at his lap. "Uncle Charles said I looked feral but I'm my own man now, I shall grow it back..." Dem pouted. "Can't you even look at me?" He closed his eyes. Head still down. He had no idea what to do. Dem's voice became very small. "Won't you kiss me...?" He looked up, stricken. "Demelza..." Dem stood up, angrily. She was not going to sit and have Ross patiently explain to the village idiot how they had a childish attachment and now they were properly grown up and she can only hope to skivvy for a fine, fine gentleman, such as himself. She bristled at Ross using her given name. She could not understand him. Ross looked down and she stomped off, angrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love And Anger, Kate Bush 1990
> 
> It lay buried here, it lay deep inside me  
> It's so deep I don't think that I can speak about it  
> It could take me all of my life  
> But it would only take a moment to
> 
> Tell you what I'm feeling  
> But I don't know if I'm ready yet  
> You come walking into this room  
> Like you're walking into my arms  
> What would I do without you?
> 
> Take away the love and the anger  
> And a little piece of hope holding us together  
> Looking for a moment that'll never happen  
> Living in the gap between past and future  
> Take away the stone and the timber  
> And a little piece of rope won't hold it together
> 
> If you can't tell your sister  
> If you can't tell a priest  
> 'Cause it's so deep you don't think that you can speak about it  
> To anyone  
> And you tell it to your heart?  
> Can you find it in your heart
> 
> To let go of these feelings  
> Like a bell to a Southerly wind?  
> We could be like two strings beating  
> Speaking in sympathy  
> What would we do without you?
> 
> Two strings speak in sympathy
> 
> Take away the love and the anger  
> And a little piece of hope holding us together  
> Looking for a moment that'll never happen  
> Living in the gap between past and future  
> Take away the stone and the timber  
> And a little piece of rope won't hold it together  
> We're building a house of the future together  
> (What would we do without you?)
> 
> Well, if it's so deep you don't think that you can speak about it  
> Just remember to reach out and touch the past and the future  
> Well, if it's so deep you don't think you can speak about it  
> Don't ever think that you can't change the past and the future
> 
> You might not, not think so now  
> But just you wait and see, someone will come to help you


	14. Wild Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep waters
> 
> Trigger warning:brief mention of coercion and child abuse

"Don't go..."  
Dem turned to look at Ross, or Ross' back. He had turned away from her, even as he begged her to stay. He sat on base, hunched away from her. Ross heard her footfall in the leaves, she was coming closer. "I'm sorry, Dem..." murmured Ross, so quiet, she could barely hear him. "For what?" Dem came to sit next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. She felt him wince. "Ross?! What has happened?" He hunched his shoulders and started to cry in earnest. "I love you, Dem... I don't mean to vex you..I..." His voice went higher, he was keening his distress. "I'm so sorry, Dem..." She knit her brows "Sorry for what?" Ross turned to face her, looked to the side, looked away, he whispered, "I am unclean..." She sat up a little more, in surprise. That didn't sound anything like Ross, it was alien. "Unclean?" Ross set his elbows on his knees, put his head in his hands and cried for a time. Dem rubbed his back, as Prudie often did when she was upset. It seemed to help. He felt for her hand and she held it. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "I've...w-wanted, nothing more, t-than to kiss you again Dem! I've so wanted to kiss you..." She was confused. "I'm here! I'm right here!" He took a shaky breath. "I know, it's just..." Dem took Ross' face in her hands and made him face her. He ducked his chin, still unable to look at her. "I'm dirty." The conviction in his voice scared her. "How? I don't understand you, Ross. I want to understand...what do you mean, 'dirty'?"

  
Ross slumped his shoulders and, cluching Dem's hand, resting his forehead on her shoulder, told a dreadful tale of systematic abuse at Master Osborne's hand. "He whipped me with a cane and said I was weak, that I cried like a girl." Dem's mouth fell open as Ross continued. "He said I should be so treated, that he should treat me l-like a girl. That I should kiss him like a girl...that I should submit or he would beat me more..." Dem gasped aloud and Ross started to cry harder. She rubbed his back. She ran her hand through his hair, his shorn hair that went through her fingers too quickly, too short, his stolen hair... She waited. Ross spoke once more. He suffered under Master Osborne's reign of terror until the Christmas holidays. After which, a serious horse riding accident befell Master Osborne. He left Ross alone after that, though Ross remained scared of him for the entire time he was at school. "I'm dirty, Dem..." sobbed Ross. "I want to kiss you but I dare not. I am too filthy now..." Dem brought her arms around him and stared out, into the woods. Their woods. They took away the sweet, wonderful boy that romped in those woods and sent him back broken. Shorn and damaged...her blood brother...

"Ross..." He sniffed, quietly. It took a great deal of strength to admit even more than he had told Jud but he was in Dem's arms, he was on base. He was safe here. Dem might hate him now, but at least he had told her his truth. "Ross..." She rubbed his back once more, lay her cheek alongside Ross' head as he sniffled at her shoulder. "Sit up, Ross. Look at me." He sat up but he looked down, could not face her. Dem turned his left palm over, let her fingers stroke the dark mark on his palm. "You are not dirty, Ross..." He whined in the back of his throat. "Shhhhhhh..." Dem held his hand with her left hand, their hands facing, palm to palm. "He is wicked! He is dirty, not you!" The whore, Margaret, had also insisted this was the case. That Ross was blameless. But it was difficult for Ross to believe. To sully Dem with his tainted mouth... "Ross!" He looked to Dem, vulnerable and crushed with sadness. It strengthened her resolve. "We swore a blood oath, Ross. I didn't swear my oath to fault at the first fence. I swore for life. You are my brother for life, Ross..." Ross pressed his lips together tightly. Dem watched a tear stand, briefly, on his chin and then fall on her hand. She looked at his face and felt it land. She interlinked their fingers. "Good times and bad, Ross. That's what binds people together," she squeezed his hand. "As we are bound." She brought her other hand to hold his, as they remained with their fingers interlocked. "That is how we shall stay." Ross started to cry again. "Oh, Dem! I was so afraid you would not want me a-a-anymore!" She put her arms around Ross and let him cry. At length, he calmed himself. She rested her forehead upon his. "I will not let you down..." said Demelza.

They walked home. Dem held his hand and Ross clung to it in gratitude. He had been terrified that he should lose her friendship and the relief of her assurance that she remained his friend was intense. As they parted for their homes Dem, gently, kissed Ross' cheek. Ross hugged her and they left it at that. Dem knew not to push, not insist Ross kiss her. He had to heal in his own way. Be ready and willing in his own way.

Dem went in through the kitchen door and Prudie turned from the stove to greet her. She frowned. "Wha 'appened?" Dem burst into tears. "PRUDIE! I NEVER KNEW THERE COULD BE SUCH WICKEDNESS! ROSS' SCHOOL WAS HORRID!!" Prudie set the pot off to the side, to stop it cooking, and came to Dem's side. Prudie held Dem, tightly, and let her cry. Her face turned red in her distress. Prudie suggested she lay down and Dem agreed. "I'll wake ee fer supper, luv. Ee rest now..." Prudie went into the yard. Jud was waiting by the gate. Ross had come home in much the same state, even as he was relieved to have retained Dem's friendship, and put to bed as well. She crossed the yard, and whispered, "Wha 'appened?" Jud sighed. "I'll tell ee later, but Dem be alright?" Prudie nodded. "Aye, she be upset, though..." Jud sighed again. In an undertone he said, "Them teachers beat the boys t'make 'em mind but Master Ross was preyed upon, like. Messed about..." Prudie's eyes widened. "It were the first year, an' I fixed the villian, but it was a bad business." She squeezed his hand and they parted to look after their charges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wild Horses, The Sundays 1992
> 
> Childhood living is easy to do  
> The things that you wanted I bought them for you  
> Graceless lady you know who I am  
> You know I can't let you slide through my hands
> 
> Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
> Wild horses, couldn't drag me away
> 
> I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
> Now you've decided just to show me the same  
> No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
> Can make me feel bitter or treat you unkind
> 
> Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
> Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away
> 
> Faith has been broken, tears must be cried  
> Let's do some living after we die
> 
> Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
> Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away
> 
> Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday  
> Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday


	15. Victims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing

Saturday supper with Jud and Ross, Sunday lunch with Prudie and Dem were reinstated. Ross made his rounds in the village, saying hello, catching up with his playmates who were now working alongside their parents most days. They were all older. They were all happy to see Ross had come back. The wooden fence that enclosed the orchard had the swing gate door removed so folk could walk through if they chose. A right barred to the village while Ross was away with an imposing sign on the gate that said, "Private Land, no tresspass" This harvest would be the last overseen by the men Uncle Charles hired. Ross wanted a quiet life for a while. He intended to claim and live at Nampara, after he was of age. For now he wanted to return to a simpler life. They would raise a new barn and Ross would look into acquiring a press to make cider. With luck, next year's harvest would be the start of brewing cider as well as collecting the fruit itself.

  
Ross sent as far as London for books and pamphlets about the cultivation of fruit trees, the fanciest being a small gilt edged treatise on orchard management. Ross could often be found up in a comfortable tree, book in hand, when the weather was fine. Ostensibly reviewing the information, more often he was simply watching the clouds drift by. Sitting quiet and trying to feel and remind himself of the small joys that made him happy before he left. There was little time for the play of a younger child now. Before he left, Ross had played every day, either after his lessons or, when Mrs. Kemp had completed her work with him, all day long. He would often play with the children of the village. He would often play with Dem. Dem was best because she had the same desire to make up games and run about and explore that Ross enjoyed. They clung to that play even after their peers thought it too babyish. They were all too old for that now. Dem and the other girls, the young men their age worked at chores. Ross, gentry, had gone away to school and did not have to work as they did. He felt betwixt and between. He did not, truly, have to soil his hands in work. It was not expected of him. Hire tenants and villagers and leave them to it -that was the natural order of things. "It does not do to mix with the lower orders", many of the boys at school parroted their father's attitudes. Uncle Charles sought to bring Ross into the fold, into his rightful place. It had backfired. School had depressed and frightened Ross to such a degree it made him wary and cynical of upper class ways and means.  
The sky was as blue as always, the clouds moved slowly. Even now, at sixteen, going on seventeen, Ross would sit and wonder, 'What might a cloud taste like?' or 'Doesn't that cloud look like the dragon in the story book Mrs. Kemp showed us once?' He wanted to focus on the book in his hand, to read about apples but there was time enough for that, one supposed...the sky was pretty and the afternoon lay before him. The others worked at their tasks until tea. There were a few hours before tea...'Yes,' thought Ross. 'Very much like a dragon, that cloud...'

Jud let Ross be. Ross, a few days after they returned had come in, from out of doors, crying uncontrollably. He told Demelza of his time at school and, the naturalness of her response, the assurance that she cared for him still, put him in a sort of manic state. Ross seemed to disintegrate into a sobbing relief that was close to despair, even as he insisted he was happy. Jud had never before come so close to actual murder in his dark of night assault on the man who had harmed Ross. Sometimes Ross would stare dully, open eyed but not seeing. Very much like the times when he was small and coping with grief at the death of his parents. At those times, Jud often wished he had killed that man, a man who dared to hurt his gentle, young friend. But Jud reasoned that Ross needed Jud more than the villain needed killing. Ross was living at that school, away from Jud, for months at a time. A strong warning, in his absence, was better, Jud told himself. Jud dreamt of these things, sometimes. It was not in his nature, really, wanting to kill someone... A new start on old ground. They were back in the village and that was a good thing. They were back and it was a tricky thing. He was debating the paths of the future. Ross would be the Master of Nampara in two years time. Master Ross should take on a younger man as caretaker. Someone young to grow into the place, as he had for Ross' father, Joshua. The lad spoke of both places, often, but once he took over Nampara, he would have to oversee new tenants and manage the estate. The orchard would still need tending... Jud, having been at Ross' side for so long, felt loathe to leave it. But the orchard would need someone to look after it on Master Ross' behalf. The young'uns (for Jud was certain sure it was Dem that held Ross' heart) could take their rightful place at Ross' ancestral home and Jud could mind this house and the day to day workings of the orchard. Perhaps, should that be the case, he could ask Prudie to marry him.

Prudie, having been informed, in a general manner, of Ross' conversation with Dem, tread lightly. Dem, so horrified by the idea that beating the students was seen as ordinary and acceptable as well as Ross' being harmed, had made her subdued and tearful by turns. Prudie, also, was distressed that the school, meant to be so grand and wonderful had injured Ross so. Part of both Ross and Dem remained their small selves to Prudie, even as they be well growed childer... That such an evil could be done to a sweet lad like him... She gave plenty of hugs, to Ross, to Dem. She let Dem direct the pace of the days. Did not chide her to hurry in her tasks. She gave them their tea, like before. Ross was gentry. He did not have work ahead of him in the day for his apples were still going to be picked by his uncle's workers this harvest. He would visit with them at tea, when they could stop a while and talk. Or not talk. Ross and Dem would have their tea and Dem would sit in one of the armchairs and stroke Ross' hair as he sat near her on the floor. At those times they would say nothing. He lay his head on her knee and sometimes clutch her skirts in his arms. They would sit and then he would return home. They resumed their weekend meals. Prudie was happy to see Jud again. She dared to admit she had missed him when he kissed her, watching for the door to shut fully in his zeal to want to kiss her yet remain unseen. The second's pause to hear the door latch before they allowed themselves a kiss. The children were so broke back, they'd not try to meet themselves. They had to look to Ross and Dem. Their own reunion must wait.

Ross set the book on his knee. He dangled his feet for a moment and then, keeping hold of the book so it not be damaged, jumped down and walked back to the house. He pulled down an apple and began to eat it. Walked to the house and put the book indoors. He felt better today. He felt restless too. They kept Seamus for him at Trenwith. Charles was a bit of a bully about riding when he entered Ross' life once more but Ross did come to love it. Now he often missed it, missed the rush and excitement of it. Dem still wanted to be his friend. She tended his broken spirit everyday. She was loving and gentle and never pressed him to kiss her. Sometimes he wanted to kiss her but he would feel jittery and scared to open his mouth. Sometimes he could hear things Master Osborne had said, in his head, and it froze him. She was patient. She might like to ride horses. Maybe she would be his wife and they could ride horses together and be free. Free and happy, like the times they would play tag. What would it be like to feel free again? Is there a way to feel free again? Free like the catch in the air as Seamus leaped over the obstacles in the paddock or free when they flew over open ground, full speed not needing to stop. Feeling one with the animal and the communication of the light press of a knee, enough to change direction. Free, like running full speed, like jumping the oak...?

Ross drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. Earlier he rummaged about and found his old shirts. Plain shirts. They were too small now. He sighed. He would have to buy regular clothes. The clothes he'd worn at Trenwith were too ornate for day to day life here. "Jud?" He came in from elsewhere. "Aye?" Ross turned to look at Jud from his chair. With his hair still short the resemblance to Joshua was unsettling. Ross was grown up..."I'm going to the shops, do we need anything?" "Nay, wha ee lookin' t'buy?" Ross flapped his wrists in irritation. "I can't bear all this lace at my hands, where it's not needed. I want a plain shirt!" Jud chuckled.  
Ross walked to the streets that had the shops, nodding to people, saying hello, as he went on a mission to feel more at home in his own clothes. He bought ordinary breeches too and felt happier for it.

On Saturdays the ladies would visit and they would have dinner. There were some hours before dinner and Ross still felt the restlessness that had plagued him throughout the week. "Jud? I'm going out..."  
Ross walked to the gate. No one was in the yard. He crossed the yard and knocked on the double gate door. It opened and Prudie smiled fondly at Ross. Is Dem i... " At that moment, Dem came to stand by Prudie. They smiled. Dem noticed that Ross had on a shirt that was not as lordly as the ones he wore since his return. "Dem, will you come out before dinner?" Prudie looked between them with interest. "Yes." She looked over the gate to see Ross had his boots on. A little shiver came over her. "Let me get my boots..." When she came back, he was not in the yard. She went out the kitchen door and saw him some yards away. A bit antsy, kicking at the grass without much thought in it. His hair was still short but he looked more like he used to, fawn colored breeches, his shirt quite plain. He turned to see her. A blue dress today, with a bit of embroidery at the belt, her sweets pocket tied round her waist and no apron. She had her laced boots on and hovered in place, hummed with energy even as she stood still. She approached him and smiled. "Ready?" Ross gently tugged at her sleeve, with his right hand, a nervous fidget. "That depends," said Ross. "Dem?" Dem crinkled her eyes, "Yes." He grasped her hand, squeezed it gently. Smiled into her eyes. Nervous, but a true smile. "You're it." he said, quietly, and Ross let go her hand, turned and ran, like a shot, toward the orchard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victims, Culture Club 1983
> 
> The victims we know so well  
> They shine in your eyes  
> When they kiss and tell  
> Strange places we never see  
> But you're always there  
> Like a ghost in my dream  
> And I keep on telling you  
> Please don't do the things you do  
> When you do those things  
> Pull my puppet strings  
> I have the strangest void for you
> 
> We love and we never tell  
> What places our hearts in the wishing well  
> Love leads us into the stream  
> And it's sink or swim  
> Like it's always been  
> And I keep on loving you  
> It's the only thing to do  
> When the angel sings  
> There are greater things  
> Can I give them all to you
> 
> Oh, hmm  
> Pull the strings of emotion  
> Take a ride into unknown pleasure  
> Feel like a child on a dark night  
> Wishing there was some kind of heaven  
> I could be warm with you smiling  
> Hold out your hand for a while  
> The victims we know them so well  
> So well
> 
> Ah, ah  
> Ah, ah  
> The victims we know so well  
> They shine in your eyes when they kiss and tell  
> Strange places we never see  
> But you're always there like a ghost in my dream  
> And I keep on telling you  
> Please don't do the things you do  
> When you do those things, pull my puppet strings  
> I have the strangest void for you
> 
> Show my heart some devotion  
> Push aside those that whisper never  
> Feel like a child on a dark night  
> Wishing we could spend it together  
> I could be warm with you smiling  
> Hold out your hand for a while  
> The victims we know them so well, so well
> 
> Ooh


	16. Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught

Dem watched Ross run away, for a moment. Watched him like countless times before. His hair used to flop about as he ran and, of course, it was too short for that now. He ran full on. No quarter. No niceties. Ran to win. Dem felt her legs move without direct thought. That her step beat an unbidden rhythm, apart from thought. She. Just. Went faster...The grass beneath flying beneath her, the apple trees coming nearer. No quarter. No pity for Ross, gentle, broken Ross. He ran to win in their game. She ran to beat him. That was the only thing for it.

Ross had a sensation quite like the freedom of riding Seamus. Nothing in the way. Running so fast that his nightmares could not snare him. Running toward a form of salvation, not running away from sad shadows. The apple trees blurred by at both sides as he tore through the grove. Dem's step was just audible. She was fast, a strong opponent. He was fast, he ran. The oak was coming up and now Ross was tall enough to leap it, stand, and keep going. The brief swale in his stomach as he was airborne. Sometimes Ross felt a similar feeling in fear. This was for joy. The different pieces of an earlier joy, unearthed and able to be held...

  
Dem began to lift her skirts out of the way. High and immodest, if truth be told. She would get to base in a running leap. She hopped from place to place avoiding roots that might trip her and stepped upon the ground to launch herself over with a laugh that began in her lungs, launched from the jitters of her stomach, rather than her throat. The shiver of fear in jumping the distance that always caused her to laugh. She guarded her landing with her hand, steadied herself against the ground and lifted her chin, to listen. "Drat!" she thought, silence meant Ross had won. She entered the clearing. Base was empty. She started laughing, in spite of her self. Ross had extended the game. He was hiding. What is hidden must be found. She jumped up and down in a circle, laughing to herself. Hugging herself. Ross was hiding, and Jud was making dinner, and she would walk back home, to Ross' home, and they would eat, just like any time, ever... She smiled at the sky, released her arms, and called out, "No quarter, Poldark!" and then, ran headlong for the older part of the wood.

  
Dem entered the clearing and smiled at base, empty base. She spun about laughing and smiled like the sun. She warned him 'no quarter' and ran onward. Ross lay his head along side the tree trunk, clutching the tree with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other. No...pity... She played to win, not coddling him or fearing for his broken heart, his sadness. The only way to play the game. Their game. So long since they played it, Ross had fooled her with her own trick. She ran for the wood as he hid by base. Not to touch base, but to see her. See Dem smile and run and be Dem. He needed that as much as anything...  
Dem's step slowed as she approached Ross, standing by base but not on it. When they were little Dem would tease Ross that way. Stand by base and then touch it, last minute. She giggled. Ross was playing like old times and used her own trick against her.

  
"You're not on base..." a sing song, teasing as Dem stalked closer. Ross did not move. Who wins at close range? Dem might lunge and catch him before he could touch base. She came closer. Ross gazed upon her, not happy, but not sad either. That's the sort of thing you can only parse when you've napped alongside a child for years, and played alongside a friend for longer. A seriousness, with love mixed in it. Admiration. Fear? A little... "You're not on base..." Another step. Conventional wisdom decreed that Ross should make his move or be caught. He remained still. Ross swallowed. She could see his throat as it happened for his shirt was loose and unbuttoned at his throat. He blinked and his lips parted. Dem, who had been poised to lunge, relaxed herself and stood facing him as he said, quietly,

  
"I want to be caught."

  
Dem stepped forward, a watery smile playing about her face. She made up the difference between them and looked up at him, taller than when he left. Ross looked at Dem, a timid smile there. A kiss. A small kiss that said, "Well met." They stepped apart a little. Ross bit his bottom lip and made up the space between them. A kiss. Dem let her mouth relax. She would not advance. She wanted Ross to choose the path they walked, she had the intuition to know that she should not startle him, not demand. The demands forced upon him when he was away being so horrid. 'My lips, Ross...mine alone...' she thought...Ross felt Demelza's lips touch his, and smelled the sweet familiarity of the scent of her mouth. No different to before. As distinct an aroma as the walls of Nampara or sunshine warming the apple trees in the grove. 'Dem...' Gently parted and waiting. Like any other time since he came home, waiting like someone trying not to startle a fawn. Waiting because she loved him. He closed his eyes like a prayer, for the brief urge to wretch, came and went. A whisper of fear before he dared to put his tongue forward. 'Dem...' he thought. A catch in his breath as he kissed her, properly kissed her. Tender, a timidity about it but his tongue slipped forward and he kissed her mouth. Huffed a bit of air from his mouth and stepped back again. Dem looked up at him and raised her eyebrows, 'Better...?' she might have said. Ross nodded, tersely. He was struggling a little. He wanted this kiss. He wanted it...She smiled and it charmed him. If she had shown concern, he might have faltered, but she stood before him, patient, smiling. Dem. "Oh, Dem...!" He pressed his forehead against hers. Eyes closed, a fervent declaration, "I missed you so much! I missed your eyelashes..." Dem couldn't help it. That struck her as funny. She laughed. A giggle that bloomed into a proper laugh. Ross blinked, giggled. Perhaps that was a strange thing to miss. If you lived with your own eyelashes all your life and couldn't see how magical they were... They laughed and admired each other. They laughed as he put his arms around her, boyish even as he was older, forever Ross. They laughed as she faced him open mouthed, teeth gleeming, laughing unabashed, forever Dem. They laughed as Dem placed her hands on each side of Ross' head, looked into his eyes and willed him to be well as she advanced a proper kiss upon him. Ross sighed into her mouth and returned it. He put a hand in her hair and deepened it. He pivoted his face and kissed back.

'Well met.'

'You are the prettiest girl in the world.'

'I think you are wonderful.'

'You are Demelza.' 

'You are Ross.'

'I love you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mountains, Prince 1986
> 
> Once upon a time in a land called Fantasy  
> Seventeen mountains stood so high  
> The sea surrounded them and together they would be  
> The only thing that ever made you cry  
> You said the devil told you that another mountain would appear  
> Every time somebody broke your heart  
> He said the sea would one day overflow with all your tears  
> And love will always leave you lonely
> 
> I say it's only mountains and the sea  
> Love will conquer if you just believe (oh, yeah)  
> It's only mountains  
> And the sea  
> There's nothing greater, you and me
> 
> Once upon a time in a haystack of despair  
> Happiness sometime hard to find (yeah)  
> Africa divided, hijack in the air  
> It's enough to make you want to lose your mind
> 
> I say it's only mountains and the sea  
> Love will conquer if you just believe (oh, yeah)  
> It's only mountains  
> And the sea  
> There's nothing greater, oh-oh, you and me
> 
> Guitars and drums on the one, huh, whoo  
> Whoo  
> (Bobby on the drum, ah)
> 
> It's only mountains (oh, yeah)  
> And the sea (and the girls sing)  
> There's nothing greater, you and me
> 
> Starvation, ow
> 
> Mountains
> 
> no quarter: Often used during military conflicts to imply combatants would not be taken prisoner, but killed -no mercy, won't go easy on you


	17. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nap

Ross heard the thunder clap, and went to the gate. He saw Dem, rushing to unpin the garments that were hanging on the line in front of the sheets. Hands flying about the line, just visible behind the sheets, pulling the pins off and tossing the clothes in the basket. She rushed indoors with the basket as heavy raindrops began to pelt against everything. Ross came through to help her. To start taking down the sheets that were being rained upon. She came back out to see Ross' boots beneath one of the sheets before the sheet vanished into his hands like a magic trick and he smiled, even as the warm rain fell on them. "Oh, thank you, Ross!" He laughed. "It will go quicker with two!" There were four sheets and, while they did make quick work of them, the rain was heavy and the job left them both soaked. Ross followed her into he house and left his wet boots by the gatedoor, so he would not wet the floor more than necessary. 

Prudie, always prepared, had two lines strung at the ceiling, indoors. Dem hung the wet sheets with Ross' assistance. He teased her by peeking around the side and stealing a peck on the cheek. Her laugh of surprise tinkled merrily. Ross smiled. His forelock fell forward, even as it was wet. He pushed it out of his eyes. "We look like we fell in the lake!" chuckled Ross, running a hand through his wet hair. "We can hang your shirt, it won't take long to dry out..." said Dem. Ross wasn't paying attention. He was charmed looking at the crescent shaped prints of Dem's wet feet on the wood of the floor. "Ross!" He looked to her, "Sorry" he smiled. "I was distracted..." His bare toe, dry, swept over a footprint of hers. She giggled to see them. "Not just my feet, I have to get a dry dress..." She "felt" the thought, not just "thought" the thought. A bad thought...even as she said it aloud. "Prudie is at a friend's house, she'll dine there too..." Ross' face was the sort of face that belied his feelings. One could see how he felt about things in his face. Dem could see him take in this information. "Oh...?" he asked. The nonchalance in it poisoned by the grin that was forming across his face. "Oh, yes..." blinked Dem, innocence shot with mischief. "I shouldn't think she'll be back until seven or eight..." It was mid afternoon. A loud thunder clap startled them both. It accentuated the fact that they were in agreement of the forming scheme. "I have to get a dry dress..." said Dem as she padded across the room to secure the front door and walked past Ross, though the house to go upstairs. Being the older of the two of them, it was perhaps Ross' solemn duty to point out the fact they should not do this. He should not follow the sweet little wet crescents, dotted with the prints of her toes through the house, up the steps and down the hallway to a part of the house he'd never, in the entire time he'd known Dem and Prudie set foot in. Ross had been allowed in Prudie's room, many times. Ross had never been in Dem's room. "Lay your shirt over the banister, Ross. It won't take long to dry." Ross did as he was bid and he knew there was no turning back because his hands were shaking from the anticipation. He lay it flat, over the hall banister and followed her disappearing footprints into her room.

A modest dressing table, a shade smaller than Prudie's. A cloam mug of flowers next to a jewel box, a broken comb, an unbroken comb, a hand mirror, faced down and and a brush. The mirror and brush were carved wood and matched. Dem so often broke her combs, the one that was kin to the others was long gone. Dem smiled as she looked at Ross, looking about the room trying to be casual about looking at her bed. Certainly not the first thing to notice...the combs are very interesting...Dem looked at Ross as if he was an apparition. They were standing here and her dress needed changing. They were standing here and Ross wore no shirt. Dem smiled. Ross had a look of longing, his eyes lit like lamps. Thunder startled them both again and they giggled. Yes. It is agreed. Dem began to undo her bodice and rid herself of the damp dress. Ross came closer. She stepped out of it. This was familiar territory. They swam so attired, him in just his breeches, her in her shift. In starlight, not in the grey filtered light of a rainy afternoon...in her room, by her bed. His breeches were damp but they knew not to play with fire. A dubious proof of chastity, but a true one, to lie in her bed with his breeches on...the dress was wet the sleeves of her shift were damp but the rest quite dry. Ross ducked his chin, grinning from ear to ear, "Dem?" She smiled, shyly. "Yes, Ross?" He worked to speak for his smile was too wide. "May I escort you to your bed?" They shared a knowing look. "Yes, please!" He extended his hand, as if to walk her. "M'lady..." She looked at him, they shared smiles that held a tantalizing mixture of bashfulness and arousal. She walked the scant three steps and climbed upon her bed, crawling over to give Ross room and looking very appealing. She grinned, eyes bright, and mirroring the same excitement. She sat up on her knees and that was that. Ross dived in and they proceeded to roll around like Ebb and Flow, playing in their basket.

Ross and Dem kissed ravenously, in part to forestall the fact that they both could intuit that the game was about to change. Dramatically. Ross' head was spinning. The bed was soft and scented with Dem, he was entirely surrounded by Dem. She was kissing him passionately, with her arms around him, in her bed. "Oh god, Dem..." She giggled her pretty laugh and he groaned as he kissed her again. "Dem..." Ross meant to ask her if he might kiss her elsewhere, but Dem stunned him into enraptured silence by choosing to start kissing his neck of her own accord. He closed his eyes and lay in her bed and she took it upon herself to explore the new landscape. Licking his nipples with her tongue was a success it seemed. Ross seemed to like that a great deal. Nipping the tiny buds of them with her teeth also seemed to please him. She smiled into his eyes as he seemed hazed from desire and putty in her hands. "You like that?" He nodded, vigorously. She smiled over him like a benevolent goddess. She giggled and kissed his neck again. Her hair fell against his face and Ross wondered if he might faint from happiness. She sat up and looked at him. This was also familiar. She had tickled Ross when they were younger, until Prudie told Dem it was not allowed. She sat astride Ross and tickled him until he was out of breath. "I could tickle you an..." She froze. Ross' cock twitched beneath her. The shift was thin enough as to be next to nothing between them and, in his excited state, his breeches might as well have been nothing. Ross sighed. "Dem, oh god, Dem..." He grasped her hips and they ground against each other. Each of them finding a pleasure in it that bordered on alarming. They scrunched their eyes shut from the sensation. Ross spoke that way, eyes shut, slack jawed, sounding anguished. "Dem! I want to kiss you Dem!" She groaned, she bent forward to kiss his mouth. "No, Dem! No," He sighed as if he might expire. "I want... to kiss you somewhere else..."

Prudie had meant to sup with her neighbor, but she had a touch of cold. They had a nice tea, for Prudie would wait out the rainstorm, and promised each other they would dine at another time. She unlocked the front door. She was pleased to see Dem had gotten the clothes off the line and hung the sheets in the house. She walked through and, at the point she might have called to Dem, saw Ross' boots by the gatedoor, on the floor. The house was silent. Prudie closed her eyes. She counted to ten, and then looked to the steps. She mounted the steps, as quietly as she could manage. Her eyes widened to see what was clearly Ross' shirt, draped over the banister. Prudie could hear nothing, she sighed. 'They's daft enough to fall asleep an' all...' She saw Demelza's door open and approached with stealth. She lay her head by the door jamb. Strangely, the first thing Prudie felt was sadness. 'Nay...naynaynaynay....don't be growin' up! Don't stop bein' m'little'uns...stay little grufflers oo 'old m'and an' eat cakes...' It was a selfish impulse, and a silly one, really. Ross and Dem were seventeen and sixteen, 'an' been a'kissin' on each other since before Ross went away to school...' she thought. Next, a swift appraisal of how much foolishness do go on... Dem was in her shift. Ross wore his breeches and, as he lay, they remained on, closed. He lay on his back with Dem curled next to him, their hair tangled about the bed and sleeping like they hadn't a care in the world. They would not. As far as they knew Prudie would not have come back until the evening. She went back downstairs. Usually, Prudie would cross the yard. She wanted the boots to lay as they were so she went out the front door and walked over to see Jud.

Prudie so often used the gate from the yard, Jud opened the front door expecting that it be someone else. She had a tight smile. He asked her in, curious to know her mood. He had seen her in many different moods and this one did not conform to any previous ones. Prudie swept in, turned to face him and said, in an undertone, "They's foolin' wi' each other..." His eyebrows raised. "Wha, now? They's o'er t'yourn?" She nodded. She lost her serious tone, briefly. "Aye," she gave a snort of a laugh. "They's up in 'er bed, sleepin'..." Jud struggled to word the next sentance. "They ain't, they ain't...?" "Nay, it be green, but it do seem more than foolishness... If'n they keep on like tha, they's gonna put two n' two together, afore long."

Ross woke with a sigh. Dem rolled over and smiled into his eyes. Sometimes, the best kisses aren't the wild, passionate ones. The tender kiss they shared upon waking was the sweetest they'd ever shared for it marked a new line, a new era. The dawn of pleasure. The kiss was soft and quiet and tasted of Dem. The days one strives to remember because it is only brand new once. They were shy. They'd entered a new, secret pact. She got up and dressed, taking the time to sear the image of Ross, lying in her bed, to memory. Ross looked at her as if she was the most wonderful girl in the world. He'd made her feel like the most wonderful girl in the world. Ross followed her downstairs, pulling his shirt from the banister, putting it on as he descended. He knelt to put his boots on and he kissed her once more before he crossed the yard to go home. "I love you..." he said, fervently. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. A deep, wonderful kiss that left him unsteady on his feet, briefly. "I love you..." said Demelza. He crossed the yard, humming with energy and charged with the excitement of having had a magic afternoon. The magic of loving, and being loved in return. Streaks of strangely colored purple and sulfur yellow clouds made wide bands across the sky as the rain left the area. Ross inhaled a deep satisfied breath. The wet air, freshened by the storm and charged with the musk of his lover. They remained virgin, but Dem was his lover now... Dem shut the top gate. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. The sudden vision of Ross in her bed. A smile crept across her face. She had a lover. With a happy sigh, she crossed into the parlor, to see if the sheets were dry. Dry enough to take down. She started from one side and, still brim full of happiness, sang to herself as she did so,

I suspicioned she was pretty

I suspicioned she was wed

My father telled me twas against the law.

I saw that she was coxy 

No loving here by proxy

As pretty a piece of mischief as never I saw

She folded the sheet and lay it on top of the clothes in the basket. She took the pin from the corner of the next sheet.

The nest was warm around us

No spouse came home and found us

Our youth it was as sweet as it was raw

As pretty a piece of mi...

As she took the other side of the sheet down, Dem revealed Prudie, sitting quietly in her armchair. She did not look amused.

Ross entered through the kitchen. "Hello, Jud..." Ross intended to spirit himself upstairs. He was not sure, after the afternoon's activities, he could bear close inspection. If he could still smell Dem's scent surely Jud could too, if he came too near. Jud came too near. Quickly and with purpose. Jud sighed as Ross shrank back a little. 'Foolishness indeed...' thought Jud. Ross blushed crimson for it was plain to see Jud knew all. "Master Ross," Ross swallowed. "Yes, Jud?" Jud frowned. "Ee needs t'tell me, man t'man, like. Ee didn't take wha weren't yourn? Dem be virgin still?" Ross' blush drained out of his face. He cleared his throat. "Yes, Jud. We didn't, I mean, I mean, I didn't..." Jud nodded. He seemed displeased but not angry. "Ee be a gentleman, if'n ee 'ave Dem's heart, tha d'mean ee 'ave her 'onor too. Ee guard 'er 'onor. Ee ain't to dis'onor 'er, Master Ross, ee needs t'keep 'er virgin pure." Ross swallowed again. They were still virgins, but purity had many levels. He and Dem spent the afternoon crashing through many different levels of indulgence that didn't feel pure at all...

"Yes, Jud."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clean, Depeche Mode 1990
> 
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> I don't understand  
> What destiny's planned  
> I'm starting to grasp  
> What is in my own hands  
> I don't claim to know  
> Where my holiness goes  
> I just know that I like  
> What is starting to show  
> Sometimes  
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> As years go by  
> All the feelings inside  
> Twist and they turn  
> As they ride with the tide  
> I don't advise  
> And I don't criticise  
> I just know what I like  
> With my own eyes  
> Sometimes  
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> Sometimes


	18. I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises

Prudie might have laughed had she not been so irritated. Dem stood before her, mouth agape, clutching the sheet to her bosom as she gasped in surprise. Stunned into silence as she had been singing to herself. Her hair was rumpled and the sudden blush that came upon her told a tale. It was Prudie's intention to smoke out the tale. Prudie asked, slowly, evenly, "Oo's fancy were it t'go to yer room?" Dem bit her bottom lip. She didn't dream Prudie might have returned early, the house seemed as quiet as when she and Ross when upstairs. "Mine, Prudie..." Prudie's eyebrows raised a fraction. "Did Ross ask ee to? Did 'e suggest it, like?" Dem looked guilty, twisted the sheet in her hands as she said. "No, Prudie...I told him you were out visiting...I told him my dress was wet, from the rain, and I would change out of it...I told him we wouldn't be caught cause you would be back late." Prudie sighed in consternation. Perhaps Dem was the ringleader. Dem did not behave as if she was defending Ross, pretending on his behalf, she took the responsibility for herself. If Ross cajoled her upstairs, the choice not hers, it would be a breach that Prudie would bar him over, their long friendship, cleaved. Prudie had true affection for Ross but Dem was her niece. She asked, "Ross, been pesterin' ee? Did 'e ask t'find a way t'do tha? Ross been tellin' ee t'look for a way t'do tha? Want t'get in yer bed?" Dem's mouth fell open. "No!" Prudie continued. "Ee wanted Ross upstairs? It be a fancy o yourn?" Dem looked at the strangled sheet in her hands. "Yes, Prudie. I told him that you were out on purpose. I wanted him to follow me. I wanted..." "Did ee know ee was gonna do tha? Waitin' on me t'go?" Dem gasped. "No, Prudie! I didn't! I swear! He helped me get the sheets into the house and hang them, cause of the rain! I didn't ask him in to, to... It, it just happened..." she finished, lamely. Prudie looked at her, sternly. Ross lay in her bed with his breeches done up but that in it self was not proof of chastity. "Demelza," Dem started shaking a little. The use of her full name signaled an arch seriousness. "Yes, Prudie?" Prudie was serious. "Tell me true, maid. Did 'e take yer virtue?" Dem blushed even redder, her eyes went wide. "No! No Prudie! We didn't! I didn't...we knew not to do... that! I just..." she considered what she was about to say. "I invited him in my room and we knew not to, not to..." Dem gulped the image of Ross pleasuring her with his mouth away, willed it away as she spoke. "We, we..." Prudie's eyebrow raised. "Ee was foolin' wi' each other?" Dem ducked her chin. Looked deeply embarrassed. "Y-yes, Prudie..." Prudie sighed. "Finish them sheets..." she said tersely. Prudie stood and went to the kitchen. Dem collapsed into the chair herself. She sat, the sheet in her lap, in a kind of terror. If Prudie decided that Ross could not be trusted she might stop them being friends! Dem folded the rest of the sheets and risked going into the kitchen. Prudie was sitting, seated at the table, deep in thought. "Prudie...?" Not a muscle moved as Prudie's eyes moved to see Dem in the doorway. "You ain't to see Ross till I tells ee it be fitty. Do ee hear?" Dem looked crestfallen. "Yes, Prudie." She continued. "If he come t'the gate or the yard, ee tells 'im 'e ain't allowed cause 'e went upstairs wi' ee when I be out o the 'ouse." Dem's lip trembled."Yes, Prudie."

It was a tense week. Saturday supper and Sunday lunch were cancelled. Prudie oversaw laundry in the yard and kept Dem indoors. Both Ross and Dem were aware that Jud and Prudie were occasionally in communication. Talking of them. Having been caught out in such an immediate manner made both Ross and Dem obedient. They made no attempt to see each other for fear that the hammer would fall on them permanently. By the second week, by Wednesday, it was agreed that Saturday's supper would not happen but Sunday lunch would resume. Jud, for his part, did not bring up the subject of the rainy day tryst with Ross again, other than to tell Ross they would have Sunday lunch again.

On Sunday, Jud and an extremely nervous Ross, called on their next door neighbors. Prudie greeted them. Dem was in the kitchen, preparing the meal. This left time for Ross, Jud and Prudie to sit in the parlor. Ross sat under the stern gaze of Prudie and Jud and waited. Prudie lifted her chin a fraction. "Master Ross?" Ross sat up a little straighter. "Yes, Prudie." "Ee be eighteen, come December?" Ross' eyes widened. "Yes, Ma'am." She looked serious, not the doting Prudie he'd come to know, be used to. "Ee be gettin' yer inheritance an' all?" Ross nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." She spoke in an even tone. "Master Paynter d'say ee ain't betrothed to no one." Ross' mouth fell open. "No, Prudie." The barest blush came to his cheeks. "Do ee need yer uncle's permission to marry?" Ross closed his eyes, opened them. Can it be...? "I do not need my need uncle's permission once I'm eighteen, Ma'am." He sat up a little more. "I will be of age with my own property and," his voice trembled, "I am free to marry who I chose." Prudie nodded. "You know why ee's been kept apart?" Ross blushed more. "Because I went to Dem's room... Ma'am..." Jud and Prudie noticed Ross squirm a little. "Aye. Dem d'say she invited ee, but ee shouldn't a done. Ee needs t'be fitty. Creepin' upstair, while I be out ain't proper." Ross pressed his lips together. "Yes, Prudie. I apologize, Ma'am." He looked to Jud, to see if he did right and Jud gave a subtle nod of his head. Prudie looked to Jud, who smiled a little. Ross could see Prudie, shifting back into the Prudie he was used to. "Master Paynter an' I d'think, tha, If'n ee ask Dem..." Ross shot up, like a human exclamation point, stood up out of his seat. His voice was a joyous whisper. "Prudie, Ma'am?! May I ask f-for Dem's hand?!" Prudie's lips twitched a smile. This boy in front of her had become very dear to her. "Aye, Master Ross. If'n she d'say 'aye', I'll permit ee t'wed when ee be eighteen." Ross' face was a picture of shock and happiness. "Now? Can I ask now?!" Prudie fought a laugh, 'No gurl wanna be asked t'wed o'er a cookin' pot...' she thought. Prudie stood, turned to smile at Jud, who was just as charmed, and then said, "Ee wait fer 'er on the lawn, lad. I'll send 'er out to ee." Ross hugged himself, excited. As Prudie went to go, Ross said in a conspiratorial hiss, "Prudie!" "Aye?" Ross could barely speak for his smile. "Tell her, 'King Arthur'." Prudie chuckled. "Eh?" Ross relaxed his body and made for the gate door, to go to the backs of their houses through their gate. "Tell her 'King Arthur'!"

Dem knew they were in some sort of serious discussion about their scandal. Her heart sank when she heard, what had to be, Ross rushing to leave by the gatedoor to the yard. Prudie must have told him he was no longer welcome. Would they still eat? Was Ross banished? Would they forever, live side by side and apart? Prudie came into the kitchen. "I'll finish things up here, luv. Ross be outside, waitin' to speak to ee. 'E said, 'King Arthur'" Dem's eyebrows raised. "Now?" Prudie smiled. "Aye, maid. Lunch will 'old."

King Arthur meant boots, for base, the boulder at the mouth of the woods was versatile. It was where they would pretend to pull the sword from the stone and one would knight the other with a stick. After much argument, they agreed to take turns. One would be King Arthur and one would be Merlin, and they would alternate, to be fair. She lay aside her apron, rinsed her face and hands, and after a moment's hesitation, tied her sweets pocket on. Playing in the woods meant the pocket knife was often handy. She laced her boots and went out. Ross was not in view. He must be on his way to base already. She did not hurry. Dem walked through the apple trees and debated taking the longer way. Prudie didn't seem cross so perhaps things were alright and Ross wanted to tell her what they had said out of earshot to Jud and Prudie. In the end, her curiosity made jumping the oak a sound idea so she prepared to get a good leap by running and winching her skirts up so her legs were freed. Ross couldn't even sit on base, he was too excited to sit still. He heard her land, having jumped the oak, and her footsteps coming nearer. He stood by base and watched her come closer. He smiled when he could see her sweets pocket. He had a stick, just in case she left it behind. He tossed it away and kneeled on one knee, knelt his head. Dem walked towards Ross, having surmised that she was Merlin because Ross was already kneeling, head bowed. Dem looked about. "Where's the sword?" Usually a stick was on the rock to knight the warrior. Ross did not raise his head. "Use your knife." Dem knit her brows but pulled the pocket knife from her sweets pocket and opened it. The knife had been Ross' and they had taken their oath to become blood brothers with it. Dem stood facing Ross, feet slightly apart, proud and regal, as Merlin the wizard should be and said, in a clear, lordly voice, "I, Merlin invested with the magical powers of Albion, declare Arthur Pendragon, a knight of Britain and its rightful king and liege lord!" She lay the flat of the pocketknife's blade on Ross' left shoulder and then his right. In a voice of high magic and authority Dem said, "Arise, Sir Knight!" Ross looked up at her. Smiled up at her and shook his head 'no'. Dem frowned. "Why?" He looked up at her. From this vantage point, her bright red hair was framed by the leaves of the trees around them and patches of blue sky. Britain can be a gloomy place, soaked with rain, cloudy days. When Ross thought of Dem, Ross recalled how beautiful nature could be. As if nature itself assembled itself to behave for her. He looked at her face. 'Please, please, PLEASE, let me get what I want. Please say 'yes'!...' he thought. "Because it is you who are Lionheart..." Dem was even more puzzled. Ross called her 'Lionheart', King Richard's name. That was Robin Hood. Ross was mixing up the games. Dem's mother's name had been Lyon. She did not realize Ross had ever misunderstood. He believed the name to be 'Lion'. He looked to her, his eyes seemed to shine with something else. "Demelza Lion Carne, blood brother, will you marry me?" Dem's mouth fell open and closed abruptly. She looked down upon Ross as he had ever been in their game, yet he was seventeen, hair as long and wild as when he was young, before school had taken him. Healed, able to laugh, able to set aside his demons, able to kiss her... She thought, 'If I could stop time, let it be now. Not when he asked me, not when I say 'yes'. Let it be now, in our woods, with the breeze rustling the trees, and Sunday lunch with Prudie and Jud a short walk away. With Ross looking up and me looking down at him and knowing that he loves me, and I love him...' Dem smiled. Ross' smile trebled. 'pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...' thought Ross. 

"Yes."

Too quick for thought, Ross stood and held her, lifted Dem and spun her about, laughing. She laughed as well, feeling the world around her spinning in concert and swirl with the beat of her heart, in the arms of her intended. He put her down. "Oh Dem! I'm the happiest man in the world!" She clung to him, not trusting herself to speak. She smiled into his eyes and he kissed her. Sealed with a kiss, no take backs, no crossed fingers, not a 'pie crust promise', easily made, easily broken. True. True blood brothers, destined to be man and wife. True love. Ross and Dem.

They walked home, to have their Sunday lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen, as performed by Daniel Truhitte and Charmian Carr 1965
> 
> You wait, little girl, on an empty stage  
> For fate to turn the light on  
> Your life, little girl, is an empty page  
> That men will want to write on  
> To write on  
> You are sixteen going on seventeen  
> Baby, it´s time to think  
> Better beware, be canny and careful  
> Baby, you´re on the brink  
> You are sixteen going on seventeen  
> Fellows will fall in line  
> Eager young lads and rogues and cads  
> Will offer you food and wine  
> Totally unprepared are you  
> To face a world of men  
> Timid and shy and scared are you  
> Of things beyond your ken  
> You need someone older and wiser  
> Telling you what to do  
> I am seventeen going on eighteen  
> I'll take care of you  
> I am sixteen going on seventeen  
> I know that I´m naive  
> Fellows I meet may tell me I´m sweet  
> And willingly I believe  
> I am sixteen going on seventeen  
> Innocent as a rose  
> Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies  
> What do I know of those  
> Totally unprepared am I  
> To face a world of men  
> Timid and shy and scared am I  
> Of things beyond my ken  
> I need someone older and wiser  
> Telling me what to do  
> You are seventeen going on eighteen  
> I'll depend on you


	19. If Only Tonight We Could Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep is tricksy

Ross knocked at the front door. The gate in the yard seemed too informal for this visit. Dem came to the door, opened it and they took the time to share a bashful smile before he entered.  
"Hello, Dem."  
"Hello, Ross."  
They sat and talked for a time. At length, Prudie joined them. She worked at sewing a quilt, Dem and Ross spoke of ordinary things. Prudie smiled a fraction. They were talking, to be sure, but they were also watching the other, intently. Dem's gaze fell upon the dark hairs at Ross' wrists, just visible at the edge of his sleeve. Ross' eyes swept the curve of Dem's neck with the same surety as running a finger there. They occasionally risked a timid glance at each other's groin, signalled by the immediate look towards Prudie, briefly, as if they had been caught stealing a sweet. Prudie remained impassive. They were humming with energy and still as a stone. Their pupils might rival the size of coins. The sound of their own breath struck them both as too loud. Every small moment and movement magnified, shy that Prudie not notice. An awkward moment for them. Ross and Dem not wanting to look too eager. Prudie spoke to them, still stitching, speaking over her work in nonchalance. She'd not tease them. A kindness to them, for they were nervous as horses, spooked by a coming storm and libel to talk an hour more for fear of deciding. "S'pect ee be wantin' t'turn in?" They looked at her, shyly. They nodded.

The serious discussion between Jud and Prudie during Ross and Dem's period of exile, the time after having been caught in Demelza's room in a compromising position, was not about marriage alone. The problem of chastity was a consideration. A bell, once struck, cannot be unstruck. Ross and Demelza had shared intimacy and would certainly be tempted to resume exploration of it. Knowing that, betrothal was only part of the solution. Insuring that Dem not become pregnant before they wed was of paramount importance. Saturday supper resumed. A shade uncomfortable for Ross and Dem to bear, though Jud said to them, sternly, "If'n ee can be foolin' about wi' each other, then ee can speak plain. If ee ain't ready t'speak plain bout un, you lot ain't ready t'carry on like tha."

"Yes, Jud." they said, cowed.

Dinner was a leveler. To speak of these negotiations over the meal was easier for it made it seem as ordinary a conversation as speaking about grafting trees or brewing mead...except, of course, Jud and Prudie spoke about making love and the rules and responsibilities of these actions. It was an edict. A requirement. The law. Ross, in his manhood and Dem, in her womanhood, must not create a child. The unspoken agreement, and certainly a mercy to Ross and Dem who blushed crimson throughout the conversation, was that other forms of intimacy were permissible. Jud and Prudie who, unknown to Ross and Demelza, were occasionally lovers themselves, were sympathetic towards their charges. Ross and Dem did not care to look elsewhere, not look to others, not looking to be wild or light with their affections, but that was a danger in itself. They need not look elsewhere. Love is its own aphrodisiac when the person who enchants you lives next door. Better to come to terms, everyone aware of what was expected, under the supervision of their guardians, at home. Ross and Dem promised their obedience. Friday was agreed upon as best for it kept a bright line between their trysting and the weekend meals they all shared. It was fitty, to begin the link between both households on Friday, before Saturday supper and Sunday lunch.

Ross and Dem, bearing shy smiles under the encouragement of Prudie's affectionate gaze, stood, bid Prudie goodnight and Ross followed Demelza upstairs. There was a larger ewer, for washing, two towels laid to the basin's side, but other than that the room remained the same. Dem closed the door and leaned against it, looking at Ross. Ross ducked his head and they remained shy, each knowing, remembering what had gone on between them when they tarried here last. Knowing the pleasures to be had were minutes away. Knowing that Prudie was near and Jud aware of their activities across the yard. The parameters of their life, two homes with a yard inbetween. At home in each, well loved in each and tied with the bonds of affection they'd received, from Jud, from Prudie. They were honor bound to greet Saturday morning with Dem "virgin pure". To that they would hold. Their guardians allowed them the freedom to love, under Prudie's roof, in Dem's bed, one night each week so long as they produced no issue. The possibilities within those rules were tantalizing. Ross removed his shirt and set it aside. Dem walked forward, undoing her bodice as she did, looking at Ross intently. A giggle between them. Nerves. "It's a plot to keep us chaste," joked Ross. "We're so frightened of Prudie hearing we'll just lie there like statues..." It was a concern. Their previous entertainments, in an empty house were unabashed and vocal. Dem grinned, shook her head. "I won't lie still..." She finished removing her dress and stood, wonderfully clad in a white shift. A shadow of her nipples could be seen beneath the material. The contours of her body ghostly visible. Ross, already excited, strained against the front of his breeches and they smiled. No lying still. They'd slept side by side for much of their childhood, napping together. They staved off sleep, talking, playing quiet games, slowly turing to unconsciousness, for much of their childhood. It was a familiar vantage point. They had laid in each other's arms, in their youth, kissing with abandon. A new fusion of previous pastimes. A new set of possibilities to explore. A new way to stave off sleep. Ross took her by the hand and they entered the bed together.

The flicker of the candle in its lantern painted shadows upon them. They still had shyness, but Ross pressed a kiss on her neck and Dem sought his mouth and, slowly, steadily, they began working themselves into the fervor they'd enjoyed previously. Ross breeches had been closed when Prudie found them sleeping but there had not been quite the same picture of virtue between them earlier. Dem and Ross made short work of releasing him, Ross wasted little time exploring Dem's body beneath her shift and she reciprocated. Thus began the night.

They talked of childhood memories. They spoke of things they would like to do. Ross promised Dem she would have her own horse and they would ride together. He promised her own breeches too, should she care to ride astride, as he did. She laughed, happy that Ross would accommodate her request. They became successively more nude as the night went on. The needy kissing and grappling gave way to the gentle caress of a hand, enjoying the heat that compounded between them as they lay close. The strange design of two humans entangled, a leg here, an arm there. The abrupt, sharp smell near the hair of secret places. Animalistic. Arousing. Quiet pleas. Desperate pleas cut short with an ardent kiss. Cries, muffled against the sheets. Fear. Ross frozen and inhibited, briefly. Dem holding him until it passed. The beginning of something that would serve them the rest of their days. Base had been a boulder at the mouth of the wood. As each Friday passed, slowly, surely, base became each other, able to ground each other physically and emotionally. They became each other's safety for they were each other's completion.

Dem put her shift back on. Ross put his breeches back on. They watched each other do this and enjoyed the intimacy of it. They had the stretched out, dry eyed feeling of being up too late. They lay back down, murmuring, kissing and dropping off to sleep somewhere near dawn.

"Good morning." smiled Prudie, over her teacup. "Good morning, Prudie." They said. She offered them tea. They sat drinking it, a morsel wide eyed over the previous night and a faint look of fatigue under beatific contentment. Prudie had no complaints. Their zeal not to be heard resulted in faint, occasional noises that sounded much like rabbits trying to escape a hutch. Otherwise, the night was quiet. Prudie gave them eggs and toasted bread. They had strawberries from the pots in the yard and slowly shed their shyness, talking to Prudie of ordinary things. The ordinary morning of a new dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Only Tonight We Could Sleep, The Cure 1986
> 
> If only tonight we could sleep  
> In a bed made of flowers  
> If only tonight we could fall  
> In a deathless spell  
> If only tonight we could slide  
> Into deep black water  
> And breathe  
> And breathe  
> Then an angel would come  
> With burning eyes like stars  
> And bury us deep  
> In his velvet arms  
> And the rain would cry  
> As our faces slipped away  
> And the rain would cry  
> Don't let it end


	20. When You Wish Upon A Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic bliss

Autumn lingered as if fond of its own perfection. Life drifted downstream in undisturbed calm. Jud, Prudie, Ross and Dem lived in harmony and good will, working and sleeping and eating and loving and laughing and agreeing, creating about themselves a fine shell of preoccupation which the outside world made no serious attempt to breech. This was the last harvest that the firm Uncle Charles had hired dealt with the apple orchard. Ross felt ever closer to the day when he could offer work to the village and have their harvest party once more, something he wanted dearly. Ross wore a thick woolen hat, fingerless mittens, warm scarves and sweaters knitted by Prudie and did not look out of place among the other villagers and the working men in the orchard. Even if his coat and clothes were of finer material, he looked quite at home among them again. He gained a great deal of knowledge, from the workers. Ross helped picked the fruit alongside them and tended the trees and felt the true satisfaction of spending his days in honest work, earning his tea like everyone else. In the evenings Ross would put his feet up and read texts from his horticulture books aloud to Jud, who's skill at reading was not as strong as Ross', as Jud made supper. They would mull over the various suggestions and instructions. Jud retained the information, having heard it by ear, and lent a great deal of country lore and experience to their conversations which strengthened Ross' knowledge over and above the books and pamphlets. Ross and Dem cherished their Friday nights, sleeping content after a night of loving and keeping their promise to Jud and Prudie, greeting Saturday morning with Dem's virtue retained. Dem and Prudie made a habit of bringing needlework and knitting with them on Saturday. They would enjoy their supper and then sit in the parlor, visiting with the gents. Jud and Prudie would tell stories and Ross would sit on the floor by Dem as she worked at her sewing and feel happy, teasing Ebb and Flow with pieces of yarn Prudie had discarded. They would have their Sunday lunch with the ladies. Before the meal, Ross and Dem would go walking, when the weather was fine or, when the weather was poor, sit indoors, by the hearth, and enjoy being together. The routine of their lives was part of their daily contentment.

One October Saturday, contentedly full from enjoying apple pie, Ross turned to Prudie, as he spoke to both her and Dem. "Oh! I've had a letter from Uncle Charles! He wants to have a party, to celebrate my turning eighteen!" Prudie raised her eyebrows. Ross looked happy, Dem looked nervous suddenly. "Tha sounds right 'andsome!" Ross nodded. "He said he would hold it the second week of December, for my birthday is too close to Christmas. He said that gives more guests an opportunity to say yes." Jud smiled fondly. His charge had grown up, was set to wed a lovely girl and about to claim his inheritance. He looked, briefly, at the snuff box on the fireplace mantle. It had been Ross' father's and held a small strand of thread, stringing Ross' baby teeth like a bracelet. Jud kept his promise to Grace Poldark. He looked after their little'un. Ross chattered excitedly. "It will be three weeks of fun! We'll shall go at the end of November and come back after the party! Uncle Charles says their will be all manner of entertainments in the days before the party! He is holding it as a ball! With masks and everything!" Prudie, noticing Dem looking more subdued said, "Ee's sure t'ave a good time, I reckon..." said Prudie. Ross grinned. "I was hoping you could join us, Prudie! You and Dem could stay at Nampara!" he looked up at Dem, lovingly "I can show you Nampara, Dem! We can dance at the ball! You can meet Uncle Charles and Francis and Seamus!" Dem smiled but she shook her head. "You can go, but...but I couldn't..." Ross frowned. "Why?" Dem bit her lip, nervously. "I'm not their sort..." Ross looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Dem?" She sighed as Prudie and Jud watched this conversation with interest. Dem rarely voiced comment over their class differences. "All you've said, these entertainments, they are for fancy folk and family, not for the likes of me..." Ross looked hurt. "You ARE my family, Dem! Why should I not bring my intended to my own birthday party?" Dem chuckled and stroked a fond hand over his head. "I haven't got any sort of dress to wear..." Ross sat up more, crossed his legs and faced her properly. "I can buy you a dress! I'll buy a gown and mask and we shall dance all night and feed each other sweets!" He looked up at her happily, expectantly, as if that solution would settle the matter. She shook her head no. "I'm not their sort! They'll look down their nose at me! They'll send me to eat with the servants!" Prudie and Jud exchanged a look. Even they had not considered problems in the issue of their differences in station, so content in their bubble of village life. Ross looked hurt. "But Dem! You will be my wife! How can I go without you?" Ebb and Flow dashed around Ross, Flow ran across his lap as they continued the chase elsewhere. Dem smiled upon him, sadly. He looked loving and shiny eyed. He looked wonderfully innocent, as if buying a dress was enough. Seated on the floor with his cats bounding around him, believing a gown could make things right. Dem sighed. "There's your folk and there's mine. It doesn't do to mix them..." Ross countered, "Dem! I'll buy you a gown! I promise!" He turned to Prudie. "Prudie! Mistress Trelask could start a dress now, for next month, couldn't she?!" Prudie smiled. "I expect so, if'n we order it this week..." Ross smiled. "See!" He turned back to Dem, smiling. "It will be wonderful, Dem!" He grasped her hands in his, looked up at her earnestly. "I'll show you Nampara, Dem! I'll show you your house!" Dem still resisted. "I'd be that worried I'd show you up..." Ross laughed, a laugh of deep affection. "Why would you?" he smiled. Dem looked at him, timidly. "Cause I have no notion how to be..." Ross grinned. "Be as you are!" She looked at her lap. "And what am I...?" she asked, wistfully. "A lady!" cried Ross, incredulous that Dem should not know. She looked glum "I'm not! And I don't know how!" Ross blinked, in surprise. Surely Dem should know herself to be a lady... Dem looked to Prudie. Prudie could see Dem's points, she could see they had some basis. But Dem would be Mistress of Nampara. It was fitty that Dem be by Ross' side. "Ee be as much a lady as anyone be, Dem. Mrs. Kemp did right by ee, even taught you lot dancin', manners an' tha...Ee stay wi' me at Ross' 'ouse an be 'is woman, luv. You stand as ee shall be, Dem. Ee'll be Mistress Poldark afore long, child..." Dem swallowed, nervously. In their woods, in their life together here, in her bed... She felt her place assured. Among high folk and girls raised like Ross, proper gentry, could she be in anyway equal? Jud spoke up. "We'll look after ee, Dem." Dem could see Jud meant what he said. That he and Prudie would be by her side as she took her first, scary step into Ross' world, having been ever by their side as Ross lived in hers. Jud said so. Prudie said so. Ross, looking up at her with so much love, said so. A grudging smile. "Oh...alright...thank you Ross..." Ross grinned the sort of grin that made the years fall away, made him look as he did when he was six. "You and Prudie can go to order your gown right this Monday! I'll spare no expense! We'll have it so our masks match!" She smiled at him, warmly, as he squeezed her hands in his. "Oh Dem! How happy we shall be!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When You Wish Upon A Star, Cliff Edwards, Disney Studio Chorus  
> 1940
> 
> When a star is born  
> They possess a gift or two  
> One of them is this  
> They have the power to make a wish come true  
> When you wish upon a star  
> Makes no difference who you are  
> Anything your heart desires will come to you  
> If your heart is in your dream  
> No request is too extreme  
> When you wish upon a star  
> As dreamers do  
> Fate is kind  
> She brings to those who love  
> The sweet fulfillment of their secret longing  
> Like a bolt out of the blue  
> Fate steps in and sees you through  
> When you wish upon a star  
> Your dreams come true  
> When you wish upon a star  
> Makes no difference who you are  
> Anything your heart desires will come to you  
> If your heart is in your dream  
> No request is too extreme  
> When you wish upon a star  
> As dreamers do  
> Fate is kind  
> She brings to those who love  
> The sweet fulfillment of their secret longing  
> Like a bolt out of the blue  
> Fate steps in and sees you through  
> When you wish upon a star  
> Your dreams come true


	21. Imagine Me Imagine You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreaming

Mistress Trelask, when told she would create a ball gown, just about fainted. A chance to dress a lady in the new styles she'd often dreamed over. A chance to use her larger pinking shears with the deep edge, for ruffles. A chance to whip up a flight of fancy, from high quality silk, on a well proportioned girl. Tall, slender, a bust of respectable size to her frame and red hair that shone like copper. Of course, madame! Please have a seat. Dem, Prudie and dressmaker poured over recent fashion plates and with Dem's excited input, decided on a robe à l'anglaise with a ruched bodice and sleeves that were close fitting at the arms and flounced with tiers of lace at the elbows. Mistress Trelask also knew a friend who could acquire two party masks from a London maker who studied his craft under a Venetian master. "They'd arrive just in the nick o time, if'n we order now..." One for a man, one for a woman and stringed, to avoid faffing about with a handled stick. Dem, thinking of Ebb and Flow scrabbling around Ross, seated on the floor as he smiled up at her, requested that they be cats. Once a gown was decided upon, underclothes, ribbons, a cloak with a fetching contrast against the gown and stockings were considered. Both the dressmaker and Prudie just about got on their knees and begged Dem to consider jewel toned greens and rich purples, for the sake of her vibrant colored hair. Dem was adamant, the dress must be red. The gown would be red, for Ross was her blood brother. With careful consideration, a deep, wondrous red silk was chosen, dark enough in some lights so as not to clash with her hair, bright enough in others to be a proper, unmistakable red. The shoes would match and Prudie, erring on the side of caution, insisted on three separate pairs of fine stockings. This so Dem could meet Ross' people on an equal footing with some in reserve should a pair become soiled. They were simple folk but Prudie wanted her niece kitted out proper for her first real ball. Nothing so grand happened here abouts. Dem would carry the honor of their village with her so it was a matter of great importance for Mistress Trelask to see her client sent forth at the height of elegance. Prudie and Dem floated home on a cloud. It was a fun and exciting afternoon.

They toiled at their tasks and met for tea each day. The week went by and, as day turns to night, Monday soon becomes Friday. Ross arrived and they sat with Prudie, talking in a more relaxed way. All three now used to the ritual of Friday. They bid her goodnight and they retired to Dem's room. A bright moon filtered a whitish, bluish light into the room. They blew out the candle and could still see each other well. A laziness between them tonight. The desperate lust, the immediate need was not necessary tonight. They had the night at their disposal, there was no rush. Dem lifted her arms up and blinked, coquettishly, Ross smiled and obliged her. He lifted the shift from her body, and lay it over his arm as they shared a quiet kiss. No hunger in it. A lazy kiss that said, 'Ah, just what I want at the end of the week...' They lay under the quilts, warm, naked. They spoke of all the things Ross wanted to show her when they went to Nampara. They spoke of how pretty the silks gleamed at the dress shop. "It's a pity the weather is cold. I would have liked to practice our steps in the Long Field..." said Ross, whispering into Dem's collarbone and planting a gentle kiss there. "Long Field?" asked Dem, nipping at Ross' ear and making him chuckle. He kissed her nose. "That's what Jud always called it. The field alongside the house. We can practice in the house. We can dance at the ball and I shall do my best to be a worthy partner." smiled Ross. Mrs. Kemp, charmed to have a boy and a girl as her pupils, had taught them dance steps. They would work at learning a dance at the end of the day, since they had sat for a length of time and enjoyed moving about before they ended the lesson. "One day," said Ross, dreamily, "I shall dance you down the Long Field... I shall dance with you under the summer moonlight..." Dem sighed. It was a nice idea to dream upon. To dance with your husband on your own land which, in some ways makes it your own moonlight too. She turned in the bed. "I wonder what new steps there are..." Dem threaded her leg between Ross' and they paused to blink the acknowledgement that Ross' body responded in concert. The warmth of the bed, the small shifts of movement between them. The dance of heartbeats and glances and soft friction that served to excite them as it gave way to exploring each other's pleasure. Ross pulled her closer, whispered, "I'm sure Francis can tell us, he's always up to date..." A deeper kiss. This bringing a bit more seriousness. They lay on their front side by side, faces facing each other, having succumbed to other pursuits and, for the moment, sated. "When we are married I shall be a wicked husband," said Ross. "I will be a tyrant and never let you wear your nightgown," He crinkled his eyes in humor. "You'll remove your shift and come to our bed naked. I shall demand it!" Dem laughed, the tinkling sort of laugh Ross liked best. "Mayhaps I'll be a wicked wife, and should not find that a hardship..." Dem smiled wider. "When we are married, I shall be wicked and never let you sleep!" They giggled together and rolled about to embrace and get comfortable. Dem stroked Ross' hair and they fell quiet. Abruptly, they woke. A first. They'd slept more than they played with each other. "Good morning, Dem..." Dem yawned. "How is it morning? I feel like we were just talking!" Ross chuckled. "Yes! I'm not sure we used our time to our advantage..." She laughed merrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Me Imagine You, Fox 1975
> 
> Doo lang doo da lang a lang doo lang  
> Doo lang doo da lang a lang doo lang  
> Heavenly eyes come see the moon  
> I think it's shinin'  
> Or would you rather up my room  
> For wine and dinin'  
> Imagine me imagine you  
> Inside each others mind what would we do?  
> Doolang da lang alang doo lang  
> Following lines around your palm  
> Your heart is huntin'  
> Don't you look any further  
> It's mine your wantin'  
> Imagine me Imagine you  
> Inside each others eyes what would we see?  
> Imagine me Imagine you  
> Inside  
> Each others arms what would we do?  
> Doo lang doo da lang a lang doo lang


	22. Why Can't I Be Two People?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hard line

This ride to Nampara was much more enjoyable for Jud and Ross, for they had the companionship of their lady loves. Prudie and Dem, excited to be traveling to see Dem's destiny, the house, Nampara, of which she would be mistress, sat with their neighbors in a luxurious private coach. Ross and Dem, safe in the indulgence of Jud and Prudie's affection, sat holding hands and very close. A closeness that lovers shared, hidden in Uncle Charles private coach. They were allowed that forbearance for both Jud and Prudie knew they would be apart for most of the visit. A gorgeous ball gown was commissioned and made for Dem, packed among the things they brought with them, but she did not have the sort of day to day wardrobe of a lady. She would stay at Nampara. Ross would go back and forth from Trenwith. Ross had arranged the trip to arrive a week earlier than the events. That way he could spend time at Nampara with Dem, during the day, and have some time before the giddy social whirl began. Ross had argued that they could purchase other clothes for Dem to wear. Dem declined. In truth it was a relief to her that she not attend the dizzying amount of soirees, dinners and entertainment planned for the three weeks away. Ross had every faith that his family and the guests would adore her as much as he did. Dem was not so sure. The harrowing time Ross spent at school made Dem wary of gentlefolk. These polite people who seemed not to care that students were whipped with canes, seemed to expect it as the natural order of things. His abuse at the hands of one of the teachers also horrified Dem. They called themselves 'gentle'... She did have limited instruction in etiquette, from her time with Ross' governess, Mrs. Kemp, but she was happy for the excuse to avoid Ross' society events. She had little faith in her ability to be accepted by Ross' gentry world.

Jud and Ross disembarked and bore luggage into the house, while the ladies remained seated in the coach. Ross released the driver, saying he would walk over to Trenwith of his own accord. Dem and Prudie stepped out into the chill air and took their first look at Dem's future home. The lilac tree by the door well grown but bare in the cold weather, the pretty farmhouse with stone walls and a large expanse of land. Jud mentioned land beyond that could not be seen. A stretch of the sea, a fine legacy. Ross pulled Dem in, by the hand, each of them carrying an enclosed wicker basket to restore Ebb and Flow to their original hearth and Jud led Prudie, taking time to bow, formally and enjoying Prudie's warm smile as she curtsied back and entered. The fire was lit, Jud bid Prudie to wait in the parlor, but she was too curious and followed him to the kitchen. Tidy and not overrun with vermin, as it had been years before when Ross came for school. Tea seemed a good idea. They'd brought some provisions from home and would market for more later. Ross smiled. "What do you think, Dem? Do you like it?" She looked about her happily. "Oh yes! It's..." A knock at the door. Ross' eyebrows raised. Perhaps the coachman. Perhaps they'd forgotten something. Ross left the parlor, went into the hall and opened the door to see Francis grinning from ear to ear. "Cousin! The coachman said you'd walk up so I felt I should join you! So good to see you Ross!" Francis was happy to see his cousin. He smiled to see Ross' hair as unkempt as when they first met. Father would demand it cut once more, but Francis believed Ross would not part with his long locks so obediently this time. "Hello, Francis!" said Ross, happy to see him once more. Francis clasped hands with affection. "I wanted to be certain you meant to come to us tonight. The coachman said you staffed your household!" Ross looked puzzled. "Well, Jud is here, of course..." Francis chimed in, "I was told you brought a housekeeper and a kitchen maid with you. I hope you know you are meant to be with us at Trenwith, during these few weeks! Will you stay at Nampara for good, when it's over?" Ross looked puzzled and then realized the coachman's error. "Oh no!" smiled Ross, good naturedly. "I have brought my intended and her aunt..." Francis, who prided himself on being unflappable, said,

"WHAT!?"

At that moment, Francis struggled to understand the vision in front of him, had to deal with it in pieces for its fast moving confusion was difficult for his brain to manage. An explosion of cats though, in reality, only two. Cats running into the hall and criss crossing about as a slender, young woman entered the hall as well. The cats seemed to herald her approach like a conjuror at a fair, producing a bouquet from a powder flash. She looked friendly. She looked very beautiful. She looked like a kitchen maid. She wore a modest dress, somewhere between red and brown, and the same soft, flat soled, kid leather shoes in the style the tenants and cottagers here about wore. An unruly mane of red curls framing her face, down her shoulders and back and then, like magic, one of the cats leapt into her arms. Just like that. Ross found this all unremarkable. That the cat should leap from nowhere, straight into the arms of this girl. This girl whom he suggested was his intended. She stroked the cat as if she had carried it in. As if it was quite common for cats to drop out of the clear blue sky and settle in one's arms. Ross smiled fondly. "Francis, this is my fiance, Demelza Carne." Francis bowed, years of etiquette pushing past his confusion. "Your servant, Ma'am." said Francis. Dem curtsied, spine erect and still holding the cat. The second cat walked alongside the girl and then the cat in her arms jumped down and they ran back into the parlor. "Ross...?" said Francis, nodding his head in greeting to Dem, the picture of gentlemanly politeness. "Yes?" said Ross. "Will this enchanting woman be accompanying us to Trenwith?" Francis feared the answer. Father had every eligible girl of rising and blue blooded families making their way to Trenwith in the upcoming weeks, to attend the events leading to the ball. This whole enterprise was designed to find Ross a suitable wife and lay the groundwork work for Francis' own launch into matrimony later. Ross relieved him by saying. "No, she will remain here. I shall escort her to the ball, though." Ross and Dem, both, smiled a pleasant smile. Francis returned it and, after saying hello to Jud and meeting Prudie with the same politeness he showed to Dem, walked with Ross to Trenwith.

"Ross...?" asked Francis as they tromped through the wooded area between their houses. "Yes?" said Ross. "Am I to understand that you intend to marry that girl?" "Yes! I asked Dem and she said yes!" Francis watched Ross smile a contented, dreamy smile and stopped walking which meant Ross had to double back. "What is it?" asked Ross. Francis looked at his younger cousin with consternation. "Father has engineered this whole visit to find you a suitable spouse!" Ross frowned. "What do you mean? I have a suitable spouse, or will have, once I turn eighteen!" Francis spoke in an undertone. "Is she with child?" Ross looked astonished. "No!" "Ross!" said Francis, "You realize, with such a wife, you cannot hope to gain entry into any respectable gathering! You'd consign yourself to..." Ross gave a derisive snort. "To a life of peace and seclusion? I'll have to bear it as best I can..." Francis looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "You cannot marry that girl!" Ross raised his voice. "What do you mean, 'cannot'? I will! I will marry Dem!" Francis spoke as if trying to explain an unchangeable fact to a small child. "Ross!" Francis grasped both of Ross' shoulders, looked him in the eye. "Father will never accept this." Ross glowered. "Uncle Charles will have to accept it! Dem will be my wife!" They walked in to Trenwith.

Uncle Charles did not accept it.

Francis gave Ross a strenuous warning not to tell Father the girl in question was at Nampara and not to reveal her name. Ross was adamant that he would marry the peasant but he did follow Francis' advice. Charles railed over Ross' head for a solid hour, after which Ross, in a sullen irritation gave way. Uncle Charles did not pay for Ross' superior education to have his nephew throw himself away on a vulgar wench. If Ross wanted his inheritance at eighteen rather than twenty one, a right Charles could choose to exercise, he would see things his way. Ross would choose a spouse from among the tremendous amount of choice in this three week period of socializing or have to wait to inherit at twenty one. Charles also threatened to renege and take the village property, including the orchard, back if Ross defied him.

Francis sat with Ross a while. He was upset to the point of tears. He could not tell Dem that he would not marry her. He would not. Losing the house and his beloved orchard broke his heart. They would have to have Charles' permission to live in Nampara, until he could claim it outright at twenty one, and marrying Dem meant Uncle Charles would not give it. Taking back the village house meant Ross could not give it to Jud, something Ross intended to do to thank Jud for looking after him. Taking away the orchard...his apples... He was crying like Francis hadn't seen him cry since they were at school. "I shall marry Dem!" wept Ross. Francis looked upon his cousin, surrounded by a luxurious bedroom, near a wardrobe filled with luxurious clothes to wear during the weeks of events, all of which meant nothing to Ross, and sighed. If one chose to put a leopard in a silk shirt and knee breeches, it would not change the nature of the beast. It would still run about killing and eat lambs, or whatever all... Uncle Charles sent Ross to school, put him in fine clothes, cut his hair. All this could not change Ross' nature. Ross was a country lad, and no mistake. Ross grew his hair back and wanted a simple life and his village and his apples and the girl next door. Francis sighed once more. "Do calm yourself, Ross. There's more than one way to skin a cat!" Ross glowered. Francis laughed like a drain. He only now remembered that Ross detested that phrase. Francis lay back on Ross' bed and laughed. It strengthened Francis' resolve. He would help his country cousin. Ross frowned at Francis, seemingly laughing at his expense. Holding his stomach from mirth, all brocade and fine lace, reverberating his mirth. He let it trickle to a chuckle and sat up. Francis smiled. Ross saw affection in his cousin's smile but was still offended. "I can't see what's so funny about this!" said a red faced, tear stained, angry looking Ross over crossed arms. Francis lay a gentle hand on Ross' shoulder. "Calm yourself, cousin. I've had quite a fine flutter or two at the gaming tables recently, and have money to spare. I wouldn't mind using it to help your Dem and get you two hitched!" Ross blinked at Francis in incomprehension. Francis found it endearing. 'Let Ross have his way... Father will cool off when I land her honorable so and so, whenever that is...let Ross play with his cats and his apples and his little kitchen maid...let Ross be happy...' thought Francis. Ross rubbed a fist across his eyes. "I'd be in your debt, Francis, but how would money help?" asked Ross. "Well," said Francis, shrugging."If Father wants you to marry a girl you meet in the lead up to the ball, a girl with a pedigree, that's been expressly invited for that purpose," Francis grinned. "We'll have to make Father believe that's who Dem is!" Ross knit his brows.

"WHAT!?"

Francis laughed. This was shaping up to be an interesting three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Can't I Be Two People?, Richard Chamberlain 1976
> 
> Any simple peasant is afforded the ability in love  
> To win or lose  
> While I of the nobility  
> Am robbed of the facility to choose
> 
> Any serf or servant can, by natural selection  
> Elect himself a mate if she's amenable  
> But due to my high breeding I'm continually acceding  
> To demands I find increasingly untenable
> 
> I wish to know  
> I demand to know  
> Why can't I be two people?  
> Why can't I live two roles?  
> Why can't one of me perform all the cloying amenities?  
> While the other me, twin brother me  
> Be a free and happy soul!
> 
> Why can't I be two people?  
> Split myself right in half  
> Then I could satisfy and mollify and pacify and qualify  
> While the other me would have a helluva healthy laugh! Hah!
> 
> The custom of royalty in referring to one's self  
> Is to naturally employ the royal "we"  
> We are very happy, we are very sad  
> We are bored and suffer from ennui  
> For a royal prince there's no such word as "me"  
> It's always "we"  
> So rightfully I should be two or three  
> Don't you agree?  
> Why can't I be two people?  
> Why can't I play two parts?  
> Why can't one of me endure  
> The appalling formalities  
> While the other me, twin brother me  
> Have a free and happy heart!
> 
> If I could be two people  
> Life would not pass me by  
> I'd have a chance to pick and choose  
> I'd have a chance to win or lose  
> And maybe one of us would have a chance to live  
> Before we die!
> 
> I have to write to catch up now, there's a gap. Once the chapters join up, I can post them one after the other again. It's COVID rules, people! EAT DESSERT FIRST!


	23. Mission:Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mission, if you choose to accept it

Francis went into the sort of single mindled, goal oriented, mode that is the hallmark, perhaps, of a privileged heir to a fabulously wealthy lineage. Unlike Ross, who learned early in his life that optimism brings disappointment, Francis believed one must behave as if victory was the only possible outcome. The plan, once set into motion, would see Ross' passion for his little kitchen maid rewarded with a formal engagement. Francis dared to believe this, precisely because of his position in life for he intended to use their societal position against Father to achieve his end.  
Verity, happy to help a kinsman she had yet to meet, acquiesced to Francis' request that she give out that her arrival was delayed but she would arrive in the second week of festivities with the daughter of a worthy friend in tow. She agreed to the quizzical mystery of arriving, on time, at their cousin's homestead, Nampara. Verity only knew the house as a sort of ghost village. Charles' nephew the only survivor of the dreadful plague that tore through the house and environs. Francis would not risk explanation in a written missive so cousin Verity could only arrive to find out what Francis had in store. 

  
Prudie, who felt a little at lose ends in Nampara, made herself useful as the chatelaine of Nampara, in absence of another woman present, Dem being a young'un. She worked alongside Jud, tending the house that lay dormant so long. They "played house" in a way. Jud and Prudie enjoyed living in the same house, making meals, sitting by the fire of an evening. It was a nice way of them each coming closer to agreement that they should make a formal bond and marry. She came into the parlor intending to tidy up and came upon a strange scene. Dem and a slightly older brunette woman in a dove grey dress, with bedsheets tied about their waists, trailing the floor like a flood with Master Ross and his cousin, Francis leading them in dance. They looked to Prudie at the door and laughed, merrily. Prudie chuckled herself. "Wha be this then?" she asked. Dem smiled like the sun. Prudie only saw that particular smile from Dem at her height of happiness. "We're learning the latest steps, Prudie! Francis says this gavotte is all the rage!" Verity chimed in, "Ross is learning the steps with the sheets in the way, that he not step upon ladies' skirts in his enthusiasm..." at this, Ross ducked his chin in the sort of self deprecating sweetness that tempted Prudie to want to ruffle his hair in affection. Francis stepped away. "Madame Lyon, may I present our cousin, Verity?" Prudie, a function of age, inclined her head. In truth, in the truth of their social positions, Prudie should have curtsied to Verity. But all in the room saw it appropriate. They knew Dem to be Ross' intended. She held the position of woman of the house in Dem's stead. Verity curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Madame Lyon." Prudie smiled. "Likewise. I'll leave ee t'get on wi' yer dancin'..." Prudie, left, charmed. Dem would go to the ball a proper lady. She had yet to know that Francis had other, bolder ideas.

  
Ross was skeptical, but Francis insisted it was a doddle. A quick trip to Truro would get all their ducks in a row. Dem needed dresses and there were shops in town that had dresses, half made, that could be finished and delivered quicker than any dressmaker beginning from scratch. They had Verity to help negotiate the best fashions for Dem to wear and they could pass her off as a high born girl. Francis saw it all fall into place. At first he feared Ross' paramore would have to keep to "yes" and "no", fearing the telltale, ghastly accent of the lower orders would give the game away. Dem's years under Mrs. Kemp's tutelage had given Dem a passable, bland accent. Not upper class as such, but no where near the peasant dialect he feared she bore when he first met her, the sort speech her aunt spoke freely. Dem was a wonder! Pretty as a rosebud, red hair that dazzled and more educated than many of the gentry girls he was used to. She understood all the "schoolboy" Latin phases he peppered his speech with. She knew her letters, could read and write! She was barely a peasant at all! No wonder Ross fell head first for her. Francis felt he could do so himself. Wouldn't it be nice to have a girl you could really talk to...? Ross was wise in choosing Demelza, that was clear. They were well matched. She was well matched for a modest, country squire such as Ross. Cousin Ross didn't have ambitious dreams. He wanted a quiet life with his apples and his woman. Francis felt his efforts were only right. They would be good together, even Verity said so.

  
Ross was nervous, he was convinced that Uncle Charles would find out if they all went to Truro but Francis insisted. Ross could meet some of the locals in the Red Lion as Dem and Verity sorted out the clothes. And Francis knew Solomon, the jeweler, would have a suitable bauble for Ross to purchase for the ball. They could handwave away a girl's lack of gems in the country for most of the week but Dem would have to have some sort of real jewel for the ball. Francis was enough of a gentleman to know that was Ross' domain, not down to Verity.  
Ross was antsy. Francis said, wisely, that they stay separate so Ross was not seen on the street with Dem. "Oh, for pity's sake, Ross! You look like a cat on hot bricks! Try to relax!" Ross frowned, "Easy for you to say! You're not the one who's being made to tie themselves forever to a total stranger for the sake of inheritance!" Francis laughed. "Ross! That will be me, not long from now! Ha! And, truth be told, I go to the slaughter willingly!" Ross looked at his cousin in wonder. Francis was correct. Francis had even less choice than Ross, but he didn't seem to mind it. With an indulgent chuckle he said. "Yes, Ross. I'll not quibble over Father's choice. All women are much the same once the candle's blown out!" Ross' mouth fell open. No other woman could be Dem...Francis laughed more. "I can see I've shocked you!" Francis looked at Ross, fondly. "All the more reason we get you hitched to the girl you want, Ross. You aren't jaded like the rest of us. That's a rare gift."

In Solomon's, there was a good amount of choice. Out of expediency, Francis would pay and Ross would pay him back from a draft at Pascoe's bank. A useful subterfuge. Uncle Charles did not control drafts at Pascoe's as it was a direct claim from Joshua. It was Ross' good fortune that Dem's dress came from these funds for Uncle Charles would have no invoice for a ball gown enter his own paperwork on Ross' behalf. After some consideration, Ross chose a ruby brooch in a setting of well matched pearls. Francis agreed that it was elegant and just the style of an old, moneyed family. Ross was pleased for Dem's dress was red and the ruby would match. They went on to the Red Lion. Francis introduced Ross to some of the younger men who would join the festivities. A couple Ross remembered from school, most were of new acquaintance. Francis gave out that Ross was "first to the chopping block", commanded to get a spouse out of the three week's events. This brought the sort of ribald talk Ross disliked but he could see Francis' purpose in it. He was setting the tone of the guests. A hunting ground of matrimony, a pleasuredome. Ross could see that, even when Francis seemed guileless, there was some larger purpose in it and, to some degree, in that purpose, all roads lead back to Dem. Francis' sardonic, easy manner was being weaponized in the goal of bringing Ross and Dem together. Francis insisted that they would be victorious. 'Please,' thought Ross, 'let it be true...'

Meanwhile, Dem under Verity's guidance, chose eight dresses for day and seven dresses for evening. Once Verity saw Dem's ball gown, she realized the money she and Francis assumed would be necessary to outfit Dem could be deployed for daywear alone. Mistress Trelask's creation might have been a London made garment, absolutely the right thing for the ball. Dem was excited to be given the clothes of a lady. Francis told her she would stay in Trenwith, for a week, under the guise of being the daughter of a wealthy friend of Verity's. Dem bit her lip in nervousness immediately. Her reluctance evaporated when Francis told her, "I can see you fear this, but don't. You already have more attainment in your letters and manners than many a titled girl!" She laughed at this but Francis' warm smile and offhand manner made her relax. Ross' stood near, smiling too. They believed it possible. That Dem could be just as much a lady as a proper lady. That cheered her. They came away with the dresses a handsome cloak for the cold weather, shoes, undergarments, a lawn morning gown trimmed with lace, ribbons and pins to dress Dem's hair and two trunks so fine one might live in them without shame, to hold it all. "Dear life!" said Dem. Verity laughed. Francis' project charmed her. Her young cousin and his village sweetheart deserved to be together. They were darling. "Did you not enjoy it?" asked Verity, knowing full well Dem enjoyed herself immensely. "Oh!" Dem closed her eyes, briefly, for she adored sitting on a little chair and being given tea and shown dress after dress and choosing what she liked. They called her 'Miss' and fawned over her as if she really was a lady. Verity was kindness itself and they chatted like they'd been friends of long standing even though they just met. It had been wonderful. "I did like it, but it seems wicked to spend so much on clothes!" Verity chuckled. Francis was insistent that we have you be a splendid heiress, and so you shall be!" They shared a happy conspiratorial smile. All was arranged. Their purchases would be sent to Nampara and Demelza would travel with Verity to Trenwith as if they'd journeyed together all along.

Ross, Dem, Francis and Verity returned to Nampara and had tea in the kitchen with Jud and Prudie. Ebb and Flow followed Verity about as if she was their long lost mother, to the amusement of all. Francis and Verity could feel, in the time they enjoyed tea at Nampara that their mission was just. Ross had found not only his bride but a warm, loving family. Both cousins could see the love they bore for each other. The caretaker and Demelza's aunt might well have been parents in their quiet pride and regard for their charges. Differences in their stations in life seemed nullified in Nampara. There was simply love and good fellowship. Verity took her leave. She would return to collect Dem and bring her to Trenwith to stay eight days. Francis shook Jud's hand, bowed over Dem and Prudie's hands in a chivalrous flourish and awaited Ross outside so they could go back to Trenwith. Ross said goodbye to Jud and Prudie, promising that he would get away from time to time to visit. Ross and Dem walked to the door. He hugged her and whispered. "I missed you Dem, on Friday... the bed at Trenwith is too big without you..." She giggled. "I missed you too..." A look they had come to know. Love, of course, but also a longing born of knowing what pleasure was had between them. Ross kissed her. A deep kiss to try to sate the separation they had to bear. A loving kiss that they were loathe to end. Let's not have it end... A small peck. A return, soft and lush. An attempt to stop that dissolves into another kiss and...

"Ross! We have to go!" They heard Francis call from outside. "It's cold as a witch's tit out here!"

They laughed. Ross looked into her face. "I'll see you tomorrow, I'll come early so I'm not missed for Uncle's evening..." Ross went out and Dem watched the two cousins walk back to Trenwith. They were of a height and even though Francis was fair haired the family resemblance was very strong. Dem felt Prudie put her arm around her. "Did ee 'ave a good time of it t'day?" Dem, again smiled her happiest smile. "Oh yes, Prudie! It was wonderful! I shall certainly look like a lady when I go to Trenwith!" Prudie gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Ee be a lady, Dem. Ee be Ross' woman, luv. Anyone 'e love d'make a lady..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening theme from the television series Mission:Impossible, written by Lalo Schifrin 1966


	24. After The Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voyeurism

"Francis! Francis, wake up!" Francis yawned and rubbed his eyes to see Ross by his bedside. "What in blazes...?" Ross smiled from ear to ear! "It snowed last night! Come to Nampara! We don't have to show our faces 'til seven!" Today's entertainment was a play, after dinner. Francis laughed. "I'll leave a note for Father, he's so jumpy over Sheba being unwell, I don't want to vex him!" Ross knit his brows. "She was well enough the other day...?" Sheba was Uncle Charles prize mare. Francis tsked. "She's mortal sick now. Quivery and can't stand..." "Oh no!" Ross was disturbed to hear of the horse's illness. Not only was she a beauty but King David was her sire. Sheba was the crown jewel in a stable full of exceptional horses. "I do hope she recovers..." said Ross. Francis got up and started casting around for clothes. "We'll see, she doesn't look good..." They walked in the snow draped woods to Nampara and Ross ran ahead to one of the outbuildings. He brought out a sled and Francis grinned from ear to ear. Just the the sort of refreshment after so much indoor socializing. "Capital idea! Ross! Go tell Dem, we'll take turns!"  
They spent the morning taking turns on the sled. The morning light darkened with more snow but it fell soft, like feathers and added to the fun of the day. Francis pulled the sled behind him, trudging up the hill and took time as he approached his cousin to have a think about what they would attempt. Ross loved his little village girl. It was as plain as the nose on his face. Even now they had their heads bent together, rosy cheeked, laughing. Francis could see, clear as any coin, that Ross had found himself a lover. The body language in their closeness was subtle, but he'd stake his head on it, and Francis was a gambling man. Dem had more attainment than her description as a vulgar suggested. Her speech was acceptable, she could read, she had a delightful, impish wit that charmed at once. It could work. The clothes were arriving tomorrow. They might well get away with it... "Your turn!" shouted Francis as he came near. "I should think one last run should do! You should double up, I think the sled is long enough!" Ross and Dem looked at the sled and looked at each other and decided that Francis was right. Ross sat in front and Dem sat behind and gravity tipped them forward as they gained speed. They plowed down the hill, the fresh cold air, sharp in their lungs. Their laughter ringing out down the hill. They had a fast, exhilarating ride and fell off in a small crash at the bottom of the hill. They were not hurt. Dem lay on her back and laughed up at the sky. Ross crawled over to her and silenced her laughter with a kiss. The snow fell upon them. Kissed Dem's forehead with cold, here, there. Dotting her face with cold and then heat. Warmth. Ross, suddenly over her and demanding a kiss. She put her hand to his head as they kissed with all the power they possessed. In the cold. In the snow. On the snowy ground that was their land. Returned to the land. Ross' birthright and his chosen consort. His blood brother and dearest friend. His lover and the woman he longed to wed and and make love to the rest of his days. A hot kiss on the cold ground. They shared a smile and Ross helped her up. They waved to Francis and brought the sled back up.

She stood still. Took notice for it... _he_..., humans were gendered... looked so charming. Small humans are so charming... A dark haired boy... Like kitten at play...

Francis adjusted his scarf and watched them drop off the sled in a heap. Roll about in the snow and Ross claim her mouth on the cold white ground. A country lad. Francis smiled. He would help his country cousin. The only cynicism he'd ever seen in Ross was his tart response that marrying Demelza would spare him from having to deal with others of their class. That was all Ross' experience at school had taught him. Father would just have to yield, thought Francis. Ross wasn't interested in courtly, society life. He just wanted to work on the land and love his wife... They pulled the sled back up and went in. Prudie chided them and set about getting their coats and wet clothes set in front of the fire, to dry out. She cossetted all three in warm blankets. Francis sat in a chair, by the fire, drowsing in the early afternoon from vigorous play in the cold morning air. Ross snuggled next to Dem, eyes closed, on the settee. He looked like a kitten pressed against it's mother. Dem, swathed in blankets too, had her arm around him and stroked Ross hair, slowly, loving with her fingers. She sang some pretty folks songs, quiet and charming. Sitting with Ross, singing as she stroked his hair, Ross contented and warm in her arms, Dem seemed like a siren or a fairy who had caught a man and enchanted him.

She watched. Carefully. A silent witness with unquiet eyes, like two fixed stars, vibrant, glittering but stationary. He was an obedient pet, a singular specimen. 'There's time enough for that...' thought the Snow Queen.

Dem smiled brightly at Francis, already happy to make a new friend in him. Francis gave her a sharp tug of his forelock and an admiring smile. Another of his class might have that come off as mockery, mocking a peasant by honoring her the way the lower orders salute their betters. It was clearly not in Francis' case. He did Dem honor, for this charming young woman made his cousin happy. Francis vowed to work to that end. To see Ross happy with the girl that he loved. Verity was happy to help, and Demelza already had a charm and style about her that should not shame any titled man's hearth. Ross had chosen well, now it was just a matter of getting Father to agree...

They took their leave of Dem and left Nampara at three. They came back to Trenwith, stopping at the stables first to see how the horse, Sheba, was progressing. Not well it seemed. "The ferriers seem to know as much as the man on the moon!" groused Charles. The illness of his prize mare, a calamity to be sure, worked to Francis' advantage. Having Father distracted would serve his aims. "Perhaps it's just a matter of her working through the illness, Father." Charles harrumphed, but Francis giving him a reassuring pat on the back as well as Ross' sympathetic smile was a tonic. Ross seemed to fall into line and the row over his vulgar plaything seemed to have blown over. Francis took this moment as his opening. "I instructed Mrs. Tabb to prepare the room across from Verity's. It seems it was not seen to and they arrive tomorrow." Charles knit his brows. "They?" Francis chuckled. "Of course, you have been juggling so many things, what with Sheba..." Charles looked befuddled. "Verity has a guest?" Francis turned to Ross. "Ross, you should go to the house and change. The play isn't until evening but you should be tip top, should guests drop by early. We might even get a hand of whist in..." Ross did not have to work hard to roll his eyes and look annoyed. "Yes, Francis. I'll see you inside, Uncle..." "Yes, yes...good lad..." Ross left and Charles watched him leave in consternation. "He's still hellbent on that doxy, I can smell it!" Francis laughed. "Father, I wager Ross will be promised to a woman of quality by the ball..." Charles groused, "You'll wager on any damned thing!" "Ha!" laughed Francis, "And I win more often than not! But, I was saying, Verity has the daughter of a friend coming with her. A family that eschews the Season and prefers to mix with their station or higher. "Oh?!" That sounded very grand to Charles. "Yes," said Francis. "Her family is very particular about who they meet. I don't know what you've done to get every blueblooded filly determined to check Ross' teeth..." Here Charles laughed, not only at the horse examination simile, but the sly compliment that Charles' network of inquiries had hit a motherlode on Ross' behalf. "But Verity herself said that their interest is worth pursuing. "Capital! Capital! What's the girl's name?" "Carne. Demelza Carne." said Francis. Charles knit his brow. "Family name on 'er? I don't recall a Carne in the area...?" Francis grinned. "They are an old family, not from round here, they are the sort of blue bloods that aren't bothered over agréments since they only mix with quality. Charles rubbed his hands together. "Well, well...the more the merrier! As you say, we'll get Ross fixed up with a good match by the time this is all said and done! Ross will see these girls and realize that his little vulgar wench won't do...He's got the cream of the crop to choose from..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After The Snow, Modern English 1982
> 
> The rhythm of the rain gives an off beat on the window pane  
> Like an angel crying from the sky  
> I can see its beauty after the snow  
> I can see its beauty after the snow
> 
> The temperature's dropping rapidly  
> Normal service will shortly be resumed  
> I can see its beauty after the snow  
> I can see its beauty after the snow  
> After the snow
> 
> I stood and watched the dark sky rise  
> With glaring sunlight in my eyes  
> I thought of all the times gone by  
> And laughed aloud at the crimson sky  
> After the snow  
> After the snow  
> After the snow  
> After the snow
> 
> After the snow there's something born  
> After the snow there's something born  
> After the snow there's something born  
> After the snow there's something born  
> After the snow  
> After the snow


	25. I've Been Waiting For A Girl Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress

"One wonders if cousinhood is sufficient cement..." One of the older guests chuckled into his port.  
"Eh? What's that you say?" Charles turned in a good natured humor to his guest.  
"Your nephew and Francis might come to pistols at dawn over that redhead!" At this the clutch of older men had a good laugh, enjoying watching the young enjoy themselves, sentimental. Fond remembrance of their own youth, before juggling wives and lovers, before gout and other nuisances to their health. The pleasantries of courtship, when all is new and your parents land you a blueblooded wife to squeeze out your heirs... "She's a pridey morsel, I daresay..." said another, looking at her through a quizzing glass. Charles turned to look himself. At one of the larger gaming tables, the croupier, was dressed as Harlequin and Francis leaned with a conspiratorial smile to the young lady who was attending as Verity's guest. "You must blow on my dice for luck, Miss Carne!" With a pretty giggle, Dem blew gently on the dice shaker in Francis' hand to the delight of the table, save Ross who looked on in ill humor. One might see it as jealousy. Francis gave a merry laugh and said, broadly, "You should blow on my cousin's dice! I daresay he needs luck too!" The table erupted into a merry laugh and Ross blushed a little, still not relinquishing his look of irritation. Charles looked in with interest. Of the women who attended these entertainments, Ross seemed to take interest in one of the highest fliers. Verity said that girl was so blue blooded her family didn't even have a title. That was a mark of an Original Landed Family, not someone Charles would have suspected would interest his nephew. Ross was so bent on fraternizing with the lower orders. Still distracted by Sheba's illness, Charles was only just catching up to the gossip that had been circulating since the conjuring display, two nights prior. Francis was seen pulling rank over Ross and contrived to sit Miss Carne by him for the entertainment rather than her intention to sit by Ross. Since then, the tug of war, between the Poldark cousins, for this girl had been a source of amusement for many of the older attendees.  
"She's well bred, you can see..." said one. They all admired her subtle display of knowing "what's what". A modest dress in the newer style, more like a column rather than a full skirt, but made of expensive material. No flashy jewels for a country house event, a simple gold charm on a ribbon round her neck. Not following the shameful vogue for pierced ears in a young lady. Raised correctly. She was a lady, to be sure. "I believe she's up country, I gather your Verity, knows her family...?" said another. Charles nodded. "I'd not tell you what to do but if it were me, I'd give Francis an earful!" said Lord So and So. "Oh?" said Charles. "Well, damme, your son shouldn't put his finger in your nephew's pie! That's a good match for your nephew! You don't want a titled girl for him! Francis should leave way. If I'm not mistaken, she might take better interest in your nephew if your son wasn't monopolizing her!" Charles knit his brows. "Why shouldn't Ross have a titled wife?" he asked. This whole enterprise was to secure the first of two fabulous matches. The Ross should have a strong marriage match leading to Francis, not only marrying well but approaching twenty one as his only heir. The gentlemen around him laughed. They were happy to support Charles, enjoy his slate of entertainments, but they would not consider Ross a sensible match for their own daughters. Another explained. "You want Francis to stand alone! You do your nephew honor, holding these events, but the cuckoo bird should not eclipse the eagle! Your late brother's son should not marry first to too a high born girl! The Poldark name means much in the county!" Another chimed in, "You'd not want to look too grasping," he leaned towards Charles, speaking in an undertone. "Francis should stand alone in glory. A quiet, respectable match for young Ross, from these splendid events you've contrived is far better. That set's the stage for Francis' turn at the reins! It is he who will lead the next generation... You'd not want to look like some of these new money families! The Poldarks are one of the last of the old guard!" He knocked back his drink and they talked of other things but this exchange did give Charles good food for thought. He was so intent on making up for his late brother, Joshua, having such ill luck - second born, his entire household and tenancy brought down by illness and death- he lost sight of the subtleties of his own postion. Times were changing. However much he felt duty to Joshua's memory, his brother had been the Second Son. Charles and Francis were, to some degree, "Poldarks in truth". He and his heir led not only the family, but their position within the arcane and rarified world of "Us". If there was "us and them", Charles and his son, Francis, were "Us" upholding their place in society. A society trying to maintain their dignity in the face of upstart families trying to buy their way into the highest rung. Ross was dear to Charles, but social order must be maintained...

"I don't see why you have to lay it on so thick!" Glowered Ross over crossed arms. Francis laughed. He was enjoying these days of merriment and thought Ross' protest charming. He looked in on Ross before they retired to bed. "Father won't yield if he thinks I'm not serious! What?! Do you think I'll take Dem for myself!?" Francis put a hand on Ross' shoulder, a loving gesture. Francis began this in seriousness and wanted to see it through. Let young Ross have his village girl... "The grown ups are talking, we don't have to lift a finger if the other worthies make up his mind for him!" Francis saw clearly what Charles in his sentimental need to be loyal to his late brother had lost sight of. They were "Us". Ross was not expected to have a fabulous match by the others in Father's circle. Many of the girls were specifically instructed to aim for the bigger fish, Francis, the heir. Of a certainty, behind closed doors, Ross' romantic look, long hair and quiet, dark countenance, produced scenes of argument and rebellion from some girls against their parents over doing their stated duty. This was amusing but the titled girls would not get their way. Ross was not what the grown ups wanted for their daughters. Charles and Francis were placed on the highest rung and Ross was not. Ross pursed his lips and gave way. It wasn't Francis' fault that he and Dem hadn't been able to share a bed since they arrived. Not had their bundling in weeks. Ross, seeing Dem all the time but not getting to be with her "properly" was making him grumpy and, if truth be told, sick with longing. Francis smiled. "I wager you'll be affianced to your village sweetheart by the end of the ball!" Ross grumbled again. "You'll wager on any damned thing!" Francis grinned. "Good night, cousin. Rest easy, we shall continue the battle on the morrow!" And with one last chuckle, Francis left. Ross undressed and got into bed. He sighed. How nice would it be to have this big bed to share with Dem. That made him sigh again. Dreaming of Fridays. He turned to the side, annoyed to realize his body was beginning to dream of Dem with a vengeance. He, fitfully, tried to fall asleep. Ross took matters into his own hands to settle for the night.

The next morning, Francis feigned surprise that Father should want a word. "Of course, Father. What is it?" Charles looked discomfitted. "You seem to be showing more than a little interest in that girl Verity brought. Francis risked fluttering his lashes a bit. Time was short, laying it on thick won't hurt... "She's quite charming, Father..." "I daresay," said Charles, "But must I remind you this series of events is to settle your cousin's affairs! Get him a good marriage. It may not mean much to you, but having your late uncle's boy settled means a great deal to me!" Francis looked cowed. "As it should, Father. As it should!" Charles continued. "Your nuptial negotiations are a different matter, Ross has not our postion. Having him well positioned means a "quiet" match." Francis looked puzzled, the countenance he expected Father would want to see. "'Quiet', Father...?" "Yes." Charles paced about a little. He was chagrined to admit he'd over reached on his nephew's behalf. "You should look to your cousin and help him. That girl is well bred from a family who remains out of the fray, eschews the season, doesn't need a alliance of note. Your cousin would do well with a wife like that. You should aim her at Ross not dandle her yourself!" Francis blinked apologetically. "Oh... I see, Father." Charles nodded. "It's a different life for young Ross. Many have accepted our invitations to curry favor for _your_ negotiations to follow, not for your cousin's sake. It would not do to have this all end with no match for Ross." Charles shuddered. "A clean slate for your entry into society by seeing Ross settled well. A good situation for us all and our good name of Poldark!" Francis stood up straighter. "I take your point, Father. I shall do as you say." Charles patted Francis' shoulder. "Good, good! I knew I could rely on your sound judgement..."

The stars were just beginning to show. Demelza, in her heavier cloak and led by Verity, walked to the well appointed gardens of the Trenwith estate. A pretty maze of pristinely cut hedges, frosted with snow on their tops, a glittering layer of snow on the ground, rolled down by gardeners to be as a flat path rather than snow that must be fought through while walking. A formal, man-made prettiness, so different to the natural beauty of Nampara. Verity told her to wait. Ross was trying to extricate himself from a card game and would come out to meet her, briefly. Dem looked about the garden with its formal, sculpted hedges and elegant benches in delighted amazement. The hedges bordered the garden as if they were walls. She turned round, to see Ross dart towards her. She smiled and he rushed to kiss her. A cloud formed between them, the warmth of their breath in the cold air. It was the sort of kiss that stopped time. He stepped back, holding her hands in his. "I've dreamt of nothing else for days! How are you?" The relief in Ross voice cheered her. "I am well. Verity's wonderful and many of the other ladies are nice to me!" Ross smiled. "I'm glad! Francis said you told one of the grooms of a cure for Sheba?!" She looked shy. "I did, it was quivering like a horse in the village did some time back. They used the same cure for whiptail and it got better... I hope it does get better it's a rare fine animal..." Ross laughed, lightly. "You'll be stealing the thunder from all the horse doctors!" She blushed. "I shouldn't think so..." He kissed her nose. "I have to go in, Verity is watching the entrance for me. In a few days time, I shall dance with you at the ball!" They kissed again and lay their foreheads next to each other. "Do you think it will work?" asked Dem, timidly. Ross sighed. "I hope so, but if it doesn't, I made my choice." He looked at her in seriousness. "I will only marry you, Dem. I thought about it and decided if I can't have the orchard in the village anymore, I'll start a new one at Nampara. We'll have to wait until I'm twenty one but you and I will be together and we can make our own way." She hugged him and he kissed her once more. They relinquished each other slowly. Their embrace, their arms, their hands, their fingertips. His arm... Her hand....Ross squeezed Dem's hand, at arms length, and they let their fingertips slide away from one another as he made to go. He looked to Dem, his beloved Dem... "You are my Lionheart, Dem. I will not fail you." And, with that, Ross ran back to return to the house. In a moment, Verity came to collect Dem. "We must change for dinner." smiled Verity. "Yes, I heard it said it's another card party tonight..." "Yes, then a string recital tomorrow. Francis said you will sit with Ross for that!" Dem grinned. It charmed Verity. The two lovers were truly smitten with each other. "Come along, my dear. Let us go in." said Verity. The girls went in, chatting happily, not noticing the strange sparkle of eyes, like fixed stars, glittering at the edge of a hedge in the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've Been Waiting For A Girl Like You, Foreigner 1981
> 
> So long, I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long  
> Sometimes I don't know what I will find, I only know it's a matter of time  
> When you love someone, when you love someone  
> It feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too  
> Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong?  
> This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I want to be sure  
> I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
> I've been waiting for a girl like you, your loving will survive  
> I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive  
> Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
> You're so good, when we make love it's understood  
> It's more than a touch or a word can say  
> Only in dreams could it be this way  
> When you love someone, yeah, really love someone  
> Now, I know it's right, from the moment I wake up till deep in the night  
> There's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly  
> I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
> I've been waiting for a girl like you, your loving will survive  
> I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive  
> Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
> I've been waiting, waiting for you, ooh  
> Ooh, I've been waiting  
> (Waiting) I've been waiting  
> (I've been waiting for a girl like you, I've been waiting) won't you come into my life?  
> Aah-aah-aah


	26. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovecats

Dem was nervous, though Verity insisted she looked incredible. The gown was enchanting. Red was a chancy hue for a redheaded girl but Mistress Trelask's careful eye brought forth a crimson dress that complemented Dem's coloring beautifully. A dressing maid, an older woman, came to arrange Dem's hair and makeup her face. Demelza was shy of cosmetics but the maid was firm over the idea that a gown of this quality and the woman wearing it should "match". It would be a mortal shame to look peaky and muted over a dress so grand. Dem's hair was piled up, high, and the maid used wire pins that were unseen and, to her delight was able to pin one of Prudie's bracelets as a garland, framing her hair at the back of her head. The jewels were paste, of course, but they resembled garnets that centered finely wrought "gold" flowers. The effect was sensational and the placement of Ross' true ruby on Dem's breast gave the illusion that her hair ornament was also genuine. With negotiation, the dressing maid and Dem found a middle ground. Her eyebrows were slightly lengthened, only a moderate amount of powder and an excusable amount of rouge on her lips. Careful in her work, the maid insisted that Dem have a patch, a fanciful little shape applied to her face. They tied the cat mask on, being certain to have the hairstyle maintained, and taking the measured, detailed view of a painter measuring a vista in front of him with his thumb, placed a minute, black, heart shaped patch a little to the left of her mouth, not quite her chin. The maid stepped back to admire her work. The belle of the ball would be her creation. She would lord it over the rest of the maids for weeks after and they would just have to bear it, for it was the truth of the matter. Demelza Carne was a lady.

  
Verity, an owl wearing a sage green gown with a fetching, subtle sheen and a fichu of gauze that covered her neckline but, somehow, did not convey modesty walked downstairs with Dem to join the revelers. The other guests looked approving, admiring. Everyone was dressed in an opulent style for the masks lent an extra air of decadence to the evening. Dem's mask matched Ross', two cats together, but she recognized him on sight. Not because of his mask, but because the love in his eyes shone so clearly behind the mask. Francis looked from one to the other. Dem would not be mistaken for a kitchen maid now. She was astonishing. Ross looked so smitten, he might float off into the sky. Dressed in dark purple, much like the suit on the little wooden doll, meant to be Joshua, Ross' father, in a black cat mask, he was a man in love. Francis, who had the mask of a red fox and resplendent in light blue grinned. The night had just begun, but Cupid held the reins tonight, Cupid would not let true lovers down.  
"Your servant, ladies!" Francis said with a wink. The boys bowed. Dem giggled and that brought the admiration of many other men in the room. The cat in the red dress was quite in demand, but it was Ross who led her in, a black cat to Dem's white. Both masks sparkled in the grand, elegant Venetian manner. Too much and just enough at the same time. Glamour incarnate.

The second footman had been warned, strenuously, that his relationship to the bottle would cost him his position. He felt he did not indulge more than others, but tonight he began to worry that his colleagues might be right. He only had a little sup but, surely his eyes were deceiving him. He might have to reconsider his drinking. A young woman walked through the wall. That was proof he'd drunk too much. A young lady, slim and beautiful, dark haired and wearing a pale blue satin dress and a white mask of a hawk seemed to walk in from out of doors through the wall!

  
The party got underway at once. Everyone dressed for flights of fancy, everyone struck by the spirit of the occasion. Francis warned Ross that he must dance with other girls tonight. Ross pouted over this and insisted the first dance would be with Dem. Francis thought this indiscreet but gave way. Ross and Dem danced with grace and charm and Francis could see that Ross' stubbornness actually helped matters. They looked smashing together and, having had their dance, Ross was able to behave as Francis demanded without being stroppy about it. Dem, was well presented, partnered with the young men in the room, Ross with the ladies. The symmetry of the night now demanded Ross and Dem should dance the last dance with each other. Francis grinned. He would make his final attack towards Father then. Francis thought, with luck on their side, Ross would be allowed to ask for Dem's hand in the morning. It was perfect!

  
Ross did his best to be an elegant partner to the various girls who clamored to dance. When he did catch a glimpse of Uncle Charles, he seemed approving. Stood among older guests and looked happy, happy that Ross was doing as he was told. Looking at all these girls who meant nothing at all to him. It made Ross wonder about his own parents. Did they get tied together like kindling twigs, with no say? They loved each other dearly. That much Ross remembered clearly. They loved him and they loved each other. When he thought of Dem, being in love with Dem, he felt it must be what his parents felt. But maybe they were strangers when they met and found love afterwards. "Forgive me, I was not attending." said Ross, a little embarrassed that the girl had said something. The girl giggled. "You are so intense, when you dance with me I feel you might sweep me off my feet, any minute, and take me to an enchanted castle..." That made Ross grin. Even on a dance floor he fell headlong into his own thoughts. The flirt was well placed for Uncle Charles saw this exchange and approved. Young Ross looked, every inch, a well bred man. Doing his duty, being obedient and a good nephew. Maybe a match really would happen tonight. He was half afraid Ross would be sulky and difficult. Ross had not shaken his childish whim for that peasant girl. Perhaps it was much as he had said to Francis, when shown the breadth of high born females, women of quality, Ross saw which way the wind blew and thought better of trying to yoke himself to a drudge.

  
The floor was still active. Ross intended to find Dem again. He had a notion from the first that they should feed each other sweets and sought to do so. But a slim woman, in the mask of a hawk, barred his way with a curtsy and he found himself unable to decline without being rude. "Well met, sir." she said. "I trust, feline friend, that you will not harm a bird in the safety of the dancefloor..." Ross smiled. "I shall be kindness itself, miss..." The dance was formal, a set of steps Ross knew from Mrs. Kemp, and the woman was graceful in a way that was fascinating to watch. She wore a gown that caught the light strangely. One could not see palettes or spangles sewn on the dress but it sparkled like frost and her dark eyes and hair were made more alluring by it. Other boys took note. Other boys resolved to ask her to dance but, strangely, when the dance had done, she curtsied, left the floor and then seemed to vanish. She was sought for by the men in the room but she had disappeared.

Ross danced with the girl, at least she seemed youthful... Her eyes, behind her mask were strange. Not just because they seemed to glint in strange ways, the lights of the room seemed to have no bearing on the glints in her eyes, they looked on with the assurance and pride of an older woman. Ross also noticed that she remained quite cool in this warm room. Physically so in that her hands were cold. In her demeanor, she did not tease or prattle like the other girls. She looked at him like she was trying to pry his thoughts out of his skull. She looked as if she could do this, pull his thoughts away from him. Ross was relieved when the dance ended and she curtsied once more. She was disquieting.

  
Candles lit a romantic mood. Dem enjoyed the ball. She enjoyed dancing with other boys, something she had not thought would be so. The dress demanded movement and these different partners provided it. Each step and turn. Each smile and curtsy was for Ross. That Ross should see her as his girl, and the all the other boys in the room were simply ornaments that showed her to good effect. If it was she who was the belle of the ball, it was for Ross alone... She thought of Prudie and the bracelet they'd played with as children gracing her hair as a princess might do. She thought of Jud and his proud smile when they had come back in from the woods announcing they would marry. She thought of Francis and Verity, so determined to help them. She and Ross were blessed. They lost their parents but were given so much love. They faced trials and pain but their love helped them through it. Dem dared to dream that fate would smile on them once more. They would be husband and wife and live happily ever after...

  
Charles was making the rounds, speaking to this one, to that one, when a groom from the stables began darting around the room, trying to find him. A common stablehand stood out like a sore thumb and people turned to stare people saw him approach Charles and whisper something urgent to him. Charles looked shocked and hurried out after the groom. The music stopped briefly. There was murmuring. Charles had been distracted by the illness of his prize horse, Sheba. Perhaps the beast had died at last. The prognosis was dire for they had no way of understanding what was wrong with the animal. The music struck up once more. The pause was long enough that Ross made his way back to Dem, determined to partner her the rest of the night.  
Charles, a portly sort of older gent, ran like the devil was chasing after him as he followed the groom who summoned him to the stables. He had to see Sheba with his own eyes. Their breath steamed out in long trails in the cold air and he slid a little over the snowy ground but did not fall. The men who looked after the stable were running about like headless chickens. Men going this way and that for the commotion around Sheba's stall was making the other horses nervous. "Sir! Make way! Make way! Mr. Poldark be here!" Charles caught his breath and held on to a newl post to regain his composure as he took in the splendid vision of his prize horse, Sheba, standing of her own accord in her stall. She was weak looking from her illness but clearly recovering. "My Sheba! My Sheba! I don't believe it!" Charles and the workers of the stable clapped each other's back and murmured their happiness, trying to keep the other horses from being afraid. "My goodness! How did this happen?!" The stablemaster smiled proudly. "T'was our own groom wha did it, Sir! Brought 'er back from death's door!" Charles was beside himself. "Who? Who was it?! Bring him forward!!" A younger groom, little more than a boy was pushed forward in a gauntlet of hands tousling his hair and clapping him on the back. "You?! You, young man! How did you help Sheba when all the others failed!?" Charles and all the others leaned in to hear of the miracle. "I 'eard the leddy say she d'know a cordial fer hosses tha done the trick in 'er parts, 'er folk 'ad hosses, I reckon! Said it worked proper! Hossmaster said couldn't make 'er no worse! 'E done like I 'eard her say, 'equal parts rosemary, juniper and card'nom seed, the bitty seeds inside un, no 'usks', she d'say!" Charles and the other men looked about each other. Herblore! Old time herb craft, not the panjangle of these modern quacks! There was a wise, old'un behind a cure like that. "Canna d'betterer tha trustin' the ancients!" said the stablemaster. "Aye..." "Ais..." The men gathered around murmured, even Charles nodded his head, sagely, in agreement. The ancients knew what they were about... "Nay!" said the lad. "She be the Young Miss o'er t'the 'ouse!" "Young miss?" asked Charles. "Who's this now...?" And so, the young groom told them all of the day when 'Young Sir an' 'is cousin brought a red headed leddy to meet Seamus. "Gave 'im an apple an' the cousin wen'back t'the 'ouse. Young Sir took a look in on Sheba afore 'e brought the leddy back, an' she d'say she'd seen ought afore. Said tha a cordial did the trick, right as rain!" He looked uncertain. He might be accused of not knowing his place, he got above himself and spoke to the lady in question. "I was near an' I says, we could use tha cordial, medicine like. Fix 'er like that hoss she d'know an' she telled me 'ow it be made!" Charles told all the workers in the stable that they would have the same champagne as his honored guests tonight and they smiled from ear to ear, knowing not to cheer for the sake of the other horses nerves.

The party resumed its pace once more and Ross smiled into Dem's eyes as he fed her a petit four and she smiled her appreciation. Charles burst back into the house and Francis came to meet him, mask off. "Father! Was it Sheba!?" Francis feared the worst. Charles looked gravely serious. Charles had intended to be strict with Ross, but he was now outmaneuvered. The game had changed. "Sheba is recovering." He leaned forward, speaking quietly. "The groom said you brought Miss Carne to the stables?" Francis felt a wave of nerves come over him. He nodded yes, feeling something he was afraid to recognize for what it was. Victory. Charles continued. "She had a recipe for the cordial that saved Sheba when every horse doctor for miles was stumped! Do you think Ross is amiable to Miss Carne enough to fix 'em up?" Francis worked not to smile. He was the picture of a scheming partner in crime. "You know, father, I think Miss Carne might just be the woman to cure Ross over his passion for that village girl. They seem quite agreeable. He was showing her Seamus that very day!"

Charles looked thoughtful. "Tell 'em to come to my study..." Francis couldn't help but smile now. "Now, father?" Charles nodded. "Yes! Ross could do well with a gentlewoman who can cure a pedigree horse with a snap of her fingers!" Send them to me, and tell Mrs. Tabb champagne is to be sent to the stables as well as the ballroom. If I have my way we'll be toasting Ross' engagement as well as Sheba's recovery!"

  
Francis requested a champagne toast be set into motion for the ball and that the stables were given their champagne and brandy on top of it. He went back into the ball to see Ross and Dem, feeding each other sweets. He grinned from ear to ear. "Cousin!" He handed Ross a napkin. "You've got icing on your mouth! If you can't deal with a petit four, how will you cope with your wedding cake?!" Ross and Dem, dressed as cats, looked to him in incomprehension. Francis waved Verity over. She would hear of it first, along with them, before Father told the guests. "Father wants to see you in his study and is ready to suggest that you two should marry!" Verity gasped. Ross and Dem's mouths fell open. "Yes!" said Francis. "Bring your Dem to Father, Ross!" They turned to look at each other. Francis had done it!  
Ross brought Dem through the house to Uncle Charles' study. Charles was already standing at his 'I am the captain of my ship' pose by the desk. The youngsters had arrived. Ross' suit was similar to the one his brother wore when he met his wife, Grace. The symmetry was appropriate. "Ross, my boy!" Charles spoke lightly, though his face was serious. "Francis tells me this woman has captured your affections?" Ross turned to look at Dem. "Yes, Uncle." Charles turned to Dem. "Miss Carne? Do you share my nephew's feelings?" Dem looked to Ross. "Yes, Mr. Poldark" Charles looked from one to the other, in ill humor.

"Is it true that you have promised to wed only her, on pain of losing the village property and the orchard?"

Their mouths fell open in unison. Charles continued, still quite stern looking.

"Is it true you intended to wait until you were released at twenty one and start an orchard of your own?"

Dem began to shake. Ross' closed his mouth and stared at his uncle in horror. Charles looked at them both and smiled.

"Is it true that this young lady is your 'Lionheart' and you have sworn to uphold your promise?"

Ross gulped. Verity had watched the entrance but none of them had known that Charles was already outside, taking air, and heard their entire exchange. Ross stood up straighter and contrived as much dignity and seriousness as a young man in a cat mask could manage. "Yes, Sir. It is true, Uncle." Charles smiled kindly. "You are stubborn, Ross. In that you are much like your father. Miss. Carne?" Dem looked to Charles, holding Ross' hand tightly. "Yes, Sir?" Charles grinned, bowed before her. "I am in your debt, Miss. Your cure for horses has restored my prize horse, Sheba." Dem curtsied. "I am glad she is better, Sir." He smiled over them fondly. "You, Francis and Verity lead me a merry dance, but now, indeed, I dance to your tune. Ross has said he is willing to give up the village orchard, willing to wait for Nampara until he is twenty one. He will not have to." They looked to each other in surprise. They stood before him, splendid clothes, in cat masks, lips parted in similar surprise. His nephew and his intended. "I give you permission to wed and receive your inheritance upon your eighteenth birthday." They exhaled. "Thank you, Uncle!" Charles spoke to Dem once more.

"Miss Carne, I wish you every happiness and beg your pardon. I chose to believe Ross had yoked himself to a peasant, beneath us in all things. I beg forgiveness. You are a lady of the first quality."

Dem's lip began to tremble. Ross had insisted. Prudie insisted. Francis and Verity insisted. Now Ross' uncle declared it in a tone that brooked no argument. Dem was every bit a lady as the other girls at the ball and Charles begged her pardon in sincerity. Charles saw her emotion and spoke quickly, to forestall tears. A woman's tears always distressed him.

"There, there...I only say what's true. You are the girl Ross holds above all others and wants to wed. Let it be true."

In a daze of emotion Ross and Dem returned to the ballroom where glasses of champagne were being poured and distributed to all the guests. Charles took a glass and stood by the musicians, told them to cease playing for he had an announcement. Charles crowed with pride and happiness that his prize horse, Sheba, was recovering her health from her dire illness. To this the guests cheered. When all seemed ready to toast he beckoned Ross and Dem to his side. He held his glass in front of him. "Are we all liquored up?!" Laughter greeted this. The toast could commence. "Friends! We have had a marvelous three weeks of jolity and entertainment and this, our finale, a ball to end all masquerades!" A cheer went up. "All this in celebration of my dearest nephew, Ross Vennor Poldark, who shall be eighteen this month!" cries of "Huzzah!" and "Here, here" filled the room. Ross reached for Dem's hand. Charles smiled."Ross' birthday is but one reason to celebrate! It is my pleasure to announce that he is affianced to Miss Carne and I shall hope to see all your happy faces once more when they wed this summer!" A cheer went up, though the enthusiasm of some girls was muted. "Raise a glass!" The sudden excitement of all motion aligned, all preparing to toast, all raising their glasses of champagne.

"To Ross and Dem!"

"To Ross and Dem!"They cried and Ross and Demelza led the dancing, into the night, for what had now become their engagement party.

After it was over, all over, Ross returned to the village with his intended and the aunt and the old caretaker. Charles turned to Francis, as they sat in the Winter Parlor, and said. "You are a blackguard!" Francis shrugged, smiled warmly. "Oh Father, what else could I do?! Ross and Demelza are a true love match! You can see it yourself, he's mad for the girl! We would have gotten away with it anyway if you hadn't been skulking about out of doors!" Charles chuckled. "Well, all's well that ends well..." He looked at Francis, drily. "I expect you made a packet, betting you could best old pater, eh...?" Francis smiled a warm smile. Shook his head 'no'. "No, Father. No wagers this time!" Charles' eyebrows raised. "Oh?" incredulous that his gambler of a son had not bet on the feat. "No, Father" smiled Francis.

"I did it for love!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes, Ilene Woods, 1950
> 
> A dream is a wish your heart makes  
> When you're fast asleep  
> In dreams you will lose your heartaches  
> Whatever you wish for, you keep  
> Have faith in your dreams and someday  
> Your rainbow will come smiling through  
> No matter how your heart is grieving  
> If you keep on believing  
> The dream that you wish will come true  
> A dream is a wish your heart makes  
> When you're fast asleep  
> In dreams you will lose your heartaches  
> Whatever you wish for, you keep  
> Have faith in your dreams and someday  
> Your rainbow will come smiling through  
> No matter how your heart is grieving  
> If you keep on believing  
> The dream that you wish will come true
> 
> blackguard: scoundrel, rascal
> 
> pater: 'father' in Latin
> 
> She thought of Prudie and the bracelet they'd played with as children : the chapter Ornaments Of Gold in Lovesong


	27. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longing

Ross and Dem were becoming increasingly more willing to cross boundaries with each other as their Friday rendezvous continued. Once they returned from Trenwith and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, they would marry, it made them more bold. They remained faithful to their bundling promise. They knew that Jud and Prudie were giving them far more freedom than some other families. Ross knew that some boys complained that they were, literally bundled, made to wear an actual sack, a cloth bag around them to keep them chaste. Ross did not boast or comment about his arrangement, an outgrowth of keeping Dem secret when he was at school as well as residual shame over being abused at school. Other boys always seemed more free to speak and joke about those sorts of things than Ross did.  
He and Dem stripped each other naked and lay in Dem's bed Friday night to Saturday morning. They remained behind her closed door and Prudie let them be. Jud, for his part, looked at Ross sternly when he returned on Saturday morning and they shared a brief, sharp nod. They did not speak of it but they essentially said,  
"Virgin pure?"  
"Virgin pure."

"I missed this..." murmured Ross as he kissed Dem's face, her neck, stroking her thigh as he did so. "I missed you..." sighed Dem. "I lay awake in Nampara and wished you were in bed with me." Ross groaned. He also missed her while in Trenwith and had to resort to other means to relieve himself. Dem continued. "I thought of you..." Ross pulled his head up, like it had been pulled by a string. His erection seemed to treble its strength. "You did...?" She nodded as Ross leaned back to look at her beneath him, her pretty breasts and pretty face. Did she shut her eyes like he did? Did she writhe about the bed as he did...? Dem looked at Ross and sensed his curiosity. Her smile made his mouth dry. "I thought about how you touch me. I touched myself...thinking of you..." Ross exhaled. "I did too..." Dem giggled.  
A pact. They spoke of lust, when they were apart. They watched each other as if they were apart. This was very arousing. It was, perhaps, a sinful enterprise. It felt like a secret that should not be shared and, by doing so driving themselves and each other into a state of pleasure that was unreasonable. They whispered their secrets and goaded each other into desperate states of excitement. Felt power over each other as she watched Ross and he watched Dem. Shy afterwards. But not sorry...

Prudie did note there were louder noises emanating from Dem's bedroom the Friday after they returned. Not surprising as they had been four weeks bereft of their Friday bundling. She did not tease them or make mention of this when they woke and were given breakfast. She was satisfied that they needed the time together in this way. Keeping them apart and insisting they leave each other alone seemed like a recipe for producing a by blow in the forest. Everyone in agreement. Everyone knowing they were responsible for keeping the last lock locked fast, made better sense.

"G'mornin'" said Prudie over her teacup. "Good morning, Prudie." There was the strangeness of being quite the same. Ross and Dem saying, "Yes, Prudie." At six. At twelve. At sixteen. Saying "Good morning, Prudie" was not very much different than their interactions when they were younger. All three knowing _something_ went on behind Dem's closed door the night previous made it strange, to say the least. She fed them breakfast, not much different to mornings when they were abroad early in play and came clamoring in bright eyed and hungry. They were subdued, shy. Their eyes bright for a different reason. Not clamoring for food for they were sated in other ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fever, Peggy Lee 1958
> 
> Never know how much I love you  
> Never know how much I care  
> When you put your arms around me  
> I get a fever that's so hard to bear  
> You give me fever,  
> When you kiss me  
> Fever when you hold me tight  
> Fever  
> In the mornin', a fever all through the night  
> Sun lights up the day time  
> Moon lights up the night  
> I light up when you call my name  
> And you know I'm gonna treat you right  
> You give me fever,  
> When you kiss me  
> Fever when you hold me tight  
> Fever  
> In the mornin'  
> A fever all through the night  
> Everybody's got the fever  
> That is somethin' you all know  
> Fever isn't such a new thing  
> Fever started a long ago  
> Romeo loved Juliet  
> Juliet she felt the same  
> When he put his arms around her  
> He said, "Julie baby you're my flame"  
> Thou givest fever  
> When we kisseth  
> Fever with thy flaming youth  
> Fever  
> I'm on fire  
> Fever yeah I burn forsooth  
> Captain Smith and Pocahontas  
> Had a very mad affair  
> When her daddy tried to kill him  
> She said, "Daddy oh don't you dare"  
> He gives me fever  
> With his kisses  
> Fever when he holds me tight  
> Fever  
> I'm his missus  
> And daddy won't you treat him right?  
> Now you've listened to my story  
> Here's the point that I have made  
> Chicks were born to give you fever  
> Be it fahrenheit or centigrade  
> They give you fever  
> When we kiss them  
> Fever if you live you learn  
> Fever  
> Till you sizzle  
> Oh what a lovely way to burn  
> What a lovely way to burn  
> What a lovely way to burn  
> And what a lovely way to burn
> 
> by blow: illegitimate child


	28. Every Breath You Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gauntlet

Saturday supper was a nice chicken pie, mixed with onions and dried mushrooms that softened and plumped in the richly flavored gravy under a crust that even Prudie occasionally envied for the flaky, fine texture that Jud produced in his pastry. They lingered at the table over tea and fanciful marzipan candies, shaped like miniature fruits, that Uncle Charles had given them. They all felt a contentment in sipping piping hot tea with their sweets. They spoke of the plans for Ross and Dem's party. They would marry in Sawle Church, near Nampara and have a celebration, here in the village, when they returned. Ross adored the autumn parties that marked the end of the orchard harvest and was excited to have a summer party. They would have trestle tables in the meadow and masses of food and drink. McNeil, the baker, promised he would bake enough wedding cake for everyone to have some. There would be music and they would dance and make merry late into the night for there would be lanterns strung in the trees and torches too. It was a lovely thing to dream of on a cold winter's night. Afterwards, the ladies sat with their sewing and knitting in the gents' parlor. Jud and Prudie sat near the fire, Dem sat in the armchair, nearest to the window. Ebb and Flow had tired themselves out and slept, curled together, in their basket by the hearth. Ross sat on the windowsill, watching the snow fall. They had gotten back to the village from Trenwith right before a great deal of snow fell and it continued, on and off for days. It would certainly be a white Christmas in two weeks time. There was lighting too. It would flash and reflect on the glass of the cabinets along the wall. A quick shiver of white light, cold shocks that glared against the mirrored back compared to the warm lights of the parlor. Ross watched it, fascinated for the flash of lightning made all the snowflakes brighten like stars falling. Ross almost willed the lightning to happen again for the snow was so beautiful that way. He mentioned as much to everyone as he kept staring, hoping it would happen again. Thunderclaps were heard in the distance. "It be a strange sort a storm t'night..." said Prudie over her knitting. Dem looked to Ross, sitting at the window. "Aren't you cold over there, Ross?" Ross turned and smiled. "A little, but I have a fiance to keep me warm!" They shared a happy smile. They would marry in early summer and be husband and wife. Jud and Prudie smiled, though Ross and Dem were too busy looking lovingly at each other to notice. They had not told the children, but Jud asked Prudie to marry him and she said 'yes'. They had a fiance to keep them warm too... "Be a deal of a storm!" said Jud, whittling a stick to make an extra poker for the fire. "Mayhaps the Snow Queen's abroad, that be a rare peculiar storm, wha wi' tha lightnin'..." Dem continued to embroider a kerchief. A border of bluebells, slowly blooming beneath her hands. "The Snow Queen comes out when the storms are strong?" She said this to coax a tale from Jud. A Saturday night by the fire was a fine night for a story. "Aye, when the snow be like a swarm o bees, an' lit up, like. Mayhaps she got the lurgies..." Ross laughed. Jud often teased Ross when he was in a restless mood. Jud said Ross had an 'attack o the lurgies comin' on'. "What's the 'lurgies', Jud?" asked Dem, charmed by Ross' laughter. "Be mischief, comin' on," said Jud. "Lookin' fer trouble..." Ross laughed again. "How much trouble could a Snow Queen be? Let her cause trouble here! I'd put her on the stove and she'd melt!" Dem laughed. Ross could sound sensible and mature and then turn around and say things that were sweetly childish. Ross was so lovely... "Don't do t'mess wi' witches, lad. Witches be tricksy..." said Jud, turning the poker this way and that to see it was even. "The Snow Queen's a witch?" asked Dem. "Aye," said Jud. "One o them powers o nature. She be a witch, though. They got magic, them tha work the seasons, like. She's as like t'freeze a human fer spite as make them snowflakes light up!" Dem shuddered. Jud had a way of storytelling that made things like that seem true as he told of it. To hear Jud, the Snow Queen was as real as the poker in his hand. Ross saw Demelza shudder and chuckled. "Don't worry Dem. I'd have to use the stove but you're so warm and pretty, she wouldn't dare harm you!" Dem laughed the tinkling sort of giggle Ross adored. She smiled over her stitching."So you think I'm pretty?" Ross blinked at her, lovingly. "Yes..." He sighed, for Dem was truly lovely. "Prettier than some?" she teased, fishing for another compliment. "Yes!" smiled Ross "Prettier than most?" giggled Dem. "Prettiest of all!" Ross jutted his chin, as he said it, to suggest this was an unassailable fact. Dem batted her eyelashes towards Ross. This was a potent gesture for Ross had been in the thrall of Dem's red eyelashes since they were little. They smiled at each other admiringly. Jud and Prudie exchanged an amused glance. Ross and Dem were constantly teasing and flirting with each other now that their wedding was assured. It was very sweet.  
At length, the ladies took their leave. Jud went out to clear the gates of snow since more had fallen while they were indoors. He cleared a path from their side of the yard to Prudie's gate and promised to do the ladies steps when they cleared their own in the front, that they be clear for Sunday morning. The ladies and Ross used the gate freely, but Jud always joined them on Sunday by the front door. Twas only fitty. Ross helped Dem with her cloak and Prudie made a point of searching her knitting basket to let them kiss, briefly. Ross looked to see Prudie inattentive and gave Dem a quick kiss. Dem smiled into his eyes and they embraced. Ross sighed. "You are so warm, I don't want to let go." He dared press a kiss on her neck and Prudie cleared her throat. Ross did as well. "Ahem, good night, Dem. Good night, Prudie." Prudie smiled, warmly. She was happy for them both. To have grown up fast friends and found love, true love, was a blessing. Ross was a good'un. "Good night, lad." she looked on, with affection. "We got nice gingerbread fer tomorrow..." Ross smiled. Prudie was Dem's aunt, but sometimes he felt like he was her nephew too, not just a next door neighbor. "You always spoil us, Prudie..." Ross had a note of admiration in his voice, she patted his cheek. "You's a good'un, Master Ross." Jud helped Prudie with her cloak. They shared a happy, conspiratorial look. They agreed to tell the children tomorrow at Sunday lunch that they would wed. They held their secret close one more night. Jud and Ross waved from the door and both houses were now shut for the night.  
Ross helped Jud clear up the kitchen and set coals in both warming pans. He bid Jud goodnight. It was a cold night. The night before he was warm in Dem's bed. Come summer he'd be in her bed every night... their bed... Ross was thinking about being with Dem more often, recently. Saturdays were often spent dreaming of Dem, of course, for the night before he'd spent time rolling around in pleasure with her, but most nights now he went to bed agitated. Dem admitted to the same, last night. Talking about that made them agitated again. Ross wondered about marriage. Maybe they would never leave their bed and starve to death, too gripped by passion to care for themselves... He wasn't sure how grown ups were able to be sensible. Jud didn't seem troubled by these things. Ross sometimes worried Jud could see the thoughts on his brow. Wicked thoughts of being in bed with Dem at wholly inappropriate times. Wicked thoughts of being with Dem in other places... Ross would blush occasionally at some of the daydreams he'd been having about her, daydreams that would put paid to their bundling promise if enacted... Ross, removed his shirt and sighed. He was practically a grown up, nearly eighteen. Maybe he would achieve maturity in himself and not be so plagued by lust. He might gain more control over himself once he was eighteen... He looked out his window to see if the lightning had stopped, trying to look at the snow and thinking of watching Dem... Dem said she thought of him at night... he had spoken to her while she said so, while he watched her. Asked her to tell him what she liked to think about. They might never leave their bed... She watched him too... Once they were married...Thinking of that became too much. He came away from the window and sought to calm himself...  
_It_ was touching himself. That was distasteful and irresistible simultaneously. It, _he_ , was very beautiful. It had challenged her. Said he would melt her on a stove. She watched him struggle with himself, humans were such grotesques. They pretended themselves better than nature. Better than animals. Humans were conceited. Look at him, little better than a beast once unseen. Secreted away at night to admit their lusts and in the light of day pretend themselves above them. Melt me on a stove... He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, willing himself silent. Humans were afraid of themselves. She did not fear. She was not afraid of this thing in front of her, this boy. She would show him what it meant. Not the pitiful wrangling with himself. True pleasure, her pleasure. It would kill him, but that was of no consequence. He threw the gauntlet first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every Breath You Take, The Police 1983
> 
> Every breath you take and every move you make  
> Every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you  
> Every single day and every word you say  
> Every game you play, every night you stay, I'll be watching you  
> Oh, can't you see you belong to me  
> How my poor heart aches with every step you take  
> Every move you make, and every vow you break  
> Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, I'll be watching you  
> Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace  
> I dream at night, I can only see your face  
> I look around but it's you I can't replace  
> I feel so cold and I long for your embrace  
> I keep crying, "Baby, baby, please"  
> Oh, can't you see you belong to me  
> How my poor heart aches with every step you take  
> Every move you make and every vow you break  
> Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, I'll be watching you  
> Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you  
> I'll be watching you  
> Every breath you take and every move you make  
> Every bond you break, every step you take (I'll be watching you)  
> Every single day, every word you say  
> Every game you play, every night you stay (I'll be watching you)  
> Every move you make, every vow you break  
> Every smile you fake, every claim you stake (I'll be watching you)  
> Every single day, every word you say  
> Every game you play, every night you stay (I'll be watching you)  
> Every breath you take, every move you make  
> Every bond you break, every step you take (I'll be watching you)  
> Every single day, every word you say  
> Every game you play, every night you stay (I'll be watching you)  
> Every move you make, every vow you break  
> Every smile you fake, every claim you stake (I'll be watching you)  
> Every single day, every word you say  
> Every game you play, every night you stay (I'll be watching you)


	29. In A Flat Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abduction

There was time before Sunday lunch. Ross woke early for he had brought the sled back from Nampara and the snow was so deep and crisp. He told Jud he would be out on the sled and back in time to change and have Sunday lunch. Jud nodded and waved him off with a dreamy smile, distracted by the happiness of today being the day he and Prudie would announce their engagement. He hoped Ross and Demelza would not find it odd. Hoped they would be happy. The duel relationships between their houses. Jud did not presume a relationship with Dem as a parent but she was dear to him, first as Ross' playmate and then the inevitable fact that tending one meant tending the other by default. Prudie was much like a mothering aunt to Ross. That they be joined in marriage -both young and old- felt right somehow...

  
Ross was going on eighteen this month. He and the boys his age had grown, year after year, in the anticipation of being "big boys". The older boys that took the boldest dares. The ones they looked up to, not old enough to join that elite group. Winter brought sleds but it was only the big boys who dared to attach themselves to horse drawn carts and sledges. Ross was not first out on this early morning. Some boys were already out and watching one of their number fly off his sled, laughing at how much faster he went and his unceremonial "plop!" into snow tracks, his sled skittered to a stop some yards ahead. Ross ran ahead waving, dragging his sled behind him as he approached was greeted in turn by the others. Ross was always given a warm welcome, even as he was gentry and his family owned the orchard. Ross grew up among them and they accepted him and his shy, mannerly ways. It gave Ross the sense of belonging that let him escape his shy ways and join in with the others. He was not immune to the lure of testing his mettle like the big boys he looked up to years ago. The morning was bright. The white snow, already choppy and discolored by mud in some parts of the road, was bone white and immaculate on the edges of everything. The frosted rooves, the windowsills, the yards and the village green. Coated in white and making the blue sky dazzle one's eyes.

Ahead, the object of pursuit. Her quarry. A child who dared to suggest he could melt her on a stove. A triffle. A kitten. Her possession. How diverting... We have been so bored, recently...

The sledding was fun. By ten the fun began to break up. Clouds were rolling in, grey and thick. There were less sledges and carts as people began to ready themselves for Sunday meals and visiting. Ross waited, hoping to get a sledge or cart one more time before he too went to ready himself to go with Jud for Prudie's meal. Ross was promised gingerbread and Dem's gentle kisses, so he was not looking to be late. Some boys waited at the edges, wanting to see one last go if possible. In the distance they could hear proper sleigh bells. This brought some back near the road for that promised a large sleigh. Ross was in a good position but started to bring himself in concert with the others. At best, two sleds could take a larger sleigh but it was dangerous. You could collide or bash into each other if you couldn't get lose on the turn, right, in the road. You had to get your dibs first or watch the first boy win and have to try your chance at second. Will Nanfran looked eager to best Ross, standing ready to leap first as the other boys watched the strange occupant, driving the sleigh come into view. Two incredible, matched, white horses, as good as any Uncle Charles owned came into view. They had thin tack, thin like whips with chips of flashing decorating the straps. These tiny metal bits glimered to the point of hypnotism. More boys got into position and Ross, placed himself closer, something in him needed to be first. He liked being fastest. He liked swinging the highest or winning a race. He liked being one of the boys... The driver wore a tall fur hat, white fox fur, like a column. A wide, fluffy collar of white ermine framed a face which could not be seen to be man or woman. Tall, made taller by the hat. A cracking whip of white leather in a slender hand. Gloved, one suspected, for surely one's skin could not be that pale. It drew nearer and the boys looked back and forth. To the road, to the sleigh, darting eye to eye as if to say, 'Me! It will be me!' 'Me first!' Will's eyes narrowed as Ross set his sled down, putting one foot, possessive, on it as he readied to loop his rope. Will coiled his rope and leaned forward. The other boys fell back. They had no hope of being first. Ross and Will were set to compete and the other boys awaited a good showing. The sleigh was strange for these parts. Painted a glossy white and elegant, the driver almost sinister in the white on white tableau. White horses, white sleigh, white clad driver and the clouds forming in the sky becoming so pregnant with snow, they whitened too and framed the vision. The sleigh bells, put one ill at ease somehow, jingling but not festive. Not merry. The anticipation of it coming closer. Closer. Ross and Will glowered in their competition. Who would be first? The other boys started whooping and laying bets. Who would best the fabulous sleigh first. A brag to end everything. Legend. The day the white sleigh came for the ride of one's life...Ross looked at Will, crouching to take the prize, giving enough lead with his rope to catch hold of the back of the sleigh where the runner attached. Will would have done, but he looked to the driver. "Go on, Will!" "Come on Will!" said the boys. Wanting to see them jump at the same time, but Will froze, his rope slack in his hands. Will thought less of the dare as the driver looked at him. The eyes. A sparkle that was not light. A glimmer that frightened him. There was something very wrong with the driver... Ross, determined on being first leapt behind the fast moving sleigh and, in a confusion of bells, snow flying free of the runners and the calls of the boys, whooping and cheering, Ross threw his rope and was snatched forward in line, behind the sleigh. Ross held the looped rope, firm in his hands, pulled securely behind the sleigh. Will stood and watched, as did the others as they ran to stand by him. Clapped his back, about to say, 'too bad,' 'better luck next time,' until they all looked on in a shock that brought dread to them all. Quick as a whip, Ross and the sleigh vanished.

Ross' sense of adventure had given way to terror. He was close to the ground, rattling at a fast moving path that jolted him at every turn. A ride so fast he was afraid to move his head to look about. Ross lost all track of time. The sky was darkening. The forest, not the woods he and Dem played in, the forest dense with trees, some with bare branches looking like skeletons against the soaring, tall, dark firs obscuring the sky with snowtipped,evergreen boughs. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours. The bucking rattle of the forest floor as the sled continued to be dragged by the sleigh hurt Ross in reverberating pain. In his bones, his skin, his entire body as he bounced and slammed upon the sled, hanging on for dear life. He could see the back of the sleigh and clumps of snow flying at him from the runners. The sleigh kept on, the rope held fast. A sudden impact with a tree root set him up in the air and crashed back down, hard enough to wind him, pushed all his breath out at once and pained his chest as the sled kept rattling over the uneven ground of the forest. Ross gasped and it pained him. He hit his head over the side and it stunned him, he bit his tongue and could taste blood on top of the pain. His tongue felt fat and pierced by his teeth. He shook and tried to form the thought, 'fall off, I must fall off...' But the swift sleigh kept on. He hit another tree root and fell off. Ross was winded once more. His back and neck felt as if he had been picked up like a child's toy and dropped off the side of Eagleye. He struggled on his back trying to breath, got his bearings, tried to sit up and opened his eyes as the light of the coming dusk glinted on the sharp edge of the sled runner, as it came flying at him, too fast to react. Too fast too... Ross lay bleeding in the snow. He lay on the uneven bracken floor of the forest, covered in snow. Cold. Cold everywhere. He felt the weight of the sled on top of him. He felt as if his eye had been put out. He tried to open his eye but the pain and the glaze of blood over his vision made him pass out altogether. In the final silence he thought, 'I shall be late for Prudie's lunch...'

"Master Paynter!" A series of thuds on the front door. "Master Paynter!" Jud opened the door to see five boys at the door. "You lot be too early fer carols!" joked Jud. The only reason he could think for a clutch of boys at the door, caroling for pennies and a tot of Christmas spirit. "Master Paynter," cried Will, out of breath, they ran all the way. "Ross d'tie 'is sled t'a sleigh an' it rode 'im out the village!" Jud looked at him in incomprehension. "EH!? Ee sayin' 'e got pulled down the road a piece?" "Nay!" All the boys cried 'nay' at once. "Nay," said another. "'E up an' disapear!" They searched the road, as snow grew heavier. The men of the village helped Jud look as far as they could before turing back in the thick falling snow. There were no tracks to follow. No sign of Ross save a ripped piece of his scarf in the road, sheared clean by the sled runner. Sliced. It was Prudie's work and Jud brought it back to the house in a numb daze. By Wednesday, they feared that Ross had been thrown or even drowned in the nearby river. The inclement weather made search impossible. Prudie and Dem were devastated. Jud was in despair. They could not find him. He did not return. If he lay unconscious, anywhere abouts, surely he perished in the cold. They could not drag the river until the weather relented. By Friday the villagers came to Ross' house to pay their respects. "We'll find the lad an nurse 'im if 'e be alive... If'n 'e be dead... We'll teel 'im, proper..." said Jud in a quiet, sad voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In A Flat Field, Bauhaus 1980
> 
> A gut pull drag on me  
> Into the chasm gaping we  
> Mirrors multi-reflecting this  
> Between spunk-stained sheet and odorous whim  
> Camera eye-flick-shudder within  
> Assist me to walk away in sin  
> Where is the string that Theseus laid?  
> Find me out this labyrinth place
> 
> I do get bored, I get bored  
> In the flat field  
> I get bored, I do get bored  
> In the flat field
> 
> Yin and yang lumber punch  
> Go taste a tart, then eat my lunch  
> And force my slender, thin and lean  
> In this solemn place of fill-wetting dreams  
> Of black-matted lace of pregnant cows  
> As life maps out onto my brow  
> The card is lowered in index turn  
> Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn
> 
> I do get bored, I get bored  
> In the flat field  
> I get bored, I do get bored  
> In the flat field
> 
> Teel: burial


	30. Edge Of Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But the moment that I first laid  
> Eyes on him all alone  
> On the edge of seventeen  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't happen to know Stevie Nicks song, "Edge Of Seventeen", from the album "Bella Donna", it has a relentless, driving guitar line, excellent drums that lend suspense and drama to the song in their abruptness, an epic length -over four minutes long- and has the sort of cinematic grandeur that pairs with this chapter hand in glove. I played it incessantly while writing this chapter...

It was an exhilarating morning, Queen Elizabeth, ruler of winter, storm clouds sweeping in at her back, enjoyed the hunt. The fresh sparkle of the first flakes falling were an involuntary flourish, brought on by the thrill of the chase and the young quarry looking so eager to join her. A second human scampered about. A nest of vermin alongside, baying and looking on like simpletons as well but she had the dark haired boy as her goal. That was the boy. How much for that one? How much for that kitten in the window? In the snow, rolling about the ground with a girl child like daft kittens wrestling. Through the window, through the wall... Dance with a harmless hawk that I may know the scent of my prey... A boy who threatened to melt me on a stove... A boy sledding within her domain. She owned it already, really. The red headed girl was a poacher. Clinging to game she had no right to possess. Winter's snow was her hunting ground, the Queen's game park, and this child was hers...

  
The Snow Queen looked behind her sleigh and her eyes narrowed in consternation. The boy had vanished, no longer attached to the back. She cracked her whip over the heads of her horses as she pulled on the reins, beginning her command to make them turn. The path was wide enough but the horses struggled against her initial fast bolt forward. A jangle of sleigh bells and a strange sheen of sparkling dust made a ghostly presence in the wood. The thick snow, frosted white and blue among the dark trees as the sleigh made its return, at a walk, to find her trophy. The night sky fell in a band overhead. What little daylight remained was a grey bluish streak mixed with red on the horizon line, behind the dense growth of the forest. She disembarked, tall, proud. Her fur hat set aside on the seat. She approached the sled, dark hair, flowing like liquid, making her pallor more pronounced. The glittering movement in her eyes scanned ahead. Yes. 'It has fallen...' ' _HE_ ', she reminded herself. 'He has fallen...' The broad sweep of her gown left a silvered frost in her wake. She stood, looking at Ross' body, lying under the sled in the snow. 'A pity, should it be damaged...' She raised her right hand, a soft command in her fingers, like a harpist letting the last strains of a note reverberate to please the audience. An elegance even as she willed Ross' sled to rise and set itself aside. She let her arm fall and knit her brow in annoyance. It sustained injury. It was marred. The sled runner had sliced a gash by its eye. She came closer. She would be less inclined to keep it should the eye be damaged. She knelt by the boy in careful perusal of its condition. Not the eye. A hairsbreath difference might have taken the eye. The cut was severe, she leaned closer.  
"Come away!"  
Queen Elizabeth, ruler of winter, paused. She obeyed no one. "Who dares to command us?" She stood up, stood over Ross, still unconscious and bleeding heavily from the wound. Blood, darkened upon the snow. "Come away from that boy, evil spirit! Leave him be!" The queen turned and scanned the trees. A wood dove in her nest had called out as her nestlings looked on sitting around their mother. "I should let him perish...?" asked Elizabeth. The dove, who knew Elizabeth was no savior, was not fooled by the Snow Queen's question, argued. "He will perish by your hand and you know that to be true! You will freeze him to death once you have tired of him. He is but a plaything to you and you should feel shame for wanting to take him away from the human realm!" Elizabeth frowned. "What of it?! It would just as soon eat you in a pie! Why should you care for a human at all?" The dove's argument brought other forest creatures forward, to watch from a distance. Foxes and deer. A bear who had not yet settled for winter. Birds in including an ancient owl, awoken by the discussion. Small creatures watching the Snow Queen be challenged. The wood dove, who knew the cruelty of humans, still felt it her duty to spare the boy his fate. "He is of this world. You bend nature to cruel ends by taking him away! He doesn't deserve your imprisonment!" Elizabeth laughed. "Imprisonment?! It shall be a prince in my winter realm! It will please me and want for nothing. I have chosen this boy and it shall be mine. It threatened to melt me. This child will dance to my tune. It will be mine." The Snow Queen's mixture of covet and revenge disturbed the wood dove more. "You must leave the human child! He is of this world, not yours!" Elizabeth looked annoyed. "You forest creatures are a pious lot! You are free to choose your mates like the base born animals you are! You chose the first wood cock that looked at you twice and let him rut his brood into you! Whereas I choose this human to be my companion and you all hide your eyes from shame! You are all such simple little creatures!" she said in a frustrated rant. The nightbird had gotten under her skin. Elizabeth did not care to think hard or deep about her motives. She was queen. Her desires were above reproach. She desired this boy who felt himself bold enough to suggest he could vanquish her. He would sleep at her feet and remain her possession. The bird had gotten above herself. Elizabeth was a higher form of nature than these silly animals. "The dove called out, tersely, "We are simple, little creatures! I should hope we know we are! And, when we die our loved ones cry REAL tears!" Elizabeth walked closer to the tree where the dove sat in her nest. The dove's children fell silent. The animals surrounding this confrontation drew nearer. Ross lay in the snow, dying. Elizabeth had a pleasant countenance now. In some ways that was more terror producing than her anger. "Then why don't you? Shall we not see what real tears look like?" Elizabeth let her eyes become unfocused and glow white. She did this for no other reason than to scare the wood dove's nestlings as she came nearer. She stood very still and blew a sparkling frost over the nest that froze all it touched in an instant. The other creatures wept and hissed their displeasure. The Snow Queen had killed the dove and her children. Elizabeth ignored them. Having dispatched her critic, she had no more time to give creatures so beneath her. She returned to Ross and considered him once more. The dove was wrong. Elizabeth was this child's saviour. She knelt low to the ground. With delicate care, she pointed her tongue like a lance and licked the deep cut along Ross' face.  
Ross murmured from pain. Not only the pain of the wound. A searing, horrible cold touched to him as stark as if it was fire. Like being burned. He shrieked as he felt it wend from his cheek to his eye. 'Kindness...' thought Elizabeth. 'Kindness itself...' Ross whined and tried to move, the pain so great as she closed the gash on his face, froze it shut. She lay a hand on his chest and a moment's glamour turned her eyes warm and loving. Ross stared into her eyes. "Sshhhhhhh...little one...you were hurt by the sled runner but you are safe now..." Ross struggled to speak. His teeth were chattering. "You are so cold..." Elizabeth smiled and Ross smiled back. This woman helped him...she took the cold away... "You...are very beautiful..." said Ross in a daze of pain. The cold was no longer hurting him. He felt quite at peace. She smiled. "Come with me, child. You shall be a prince in my realm of winter and live with me in peace." Ross knit his brows. It hurt Ross to do this, he had no relief however he tried to move his brow. "I... I cannot..." Elizabeth recoiled. "WHAT!?" Ross' eyes rolled up in his head, briefly. "Dem..." Elizabeth, in a fit of pique, kissed Ross' forehead. It was not an act of love. Elizabeth risked freezing Ross to death if she kissed him too much. She could not risk more than four kisses and now she'd spent one in jealousy. That he should dare to put a human girl before her. Ross felt cold again but it was not painful. The Snow Queen's kiss brought a gentle amnesia. There was no Dem. No Prudie. No Jud. No yard, sweetly scented with pots of plants and the rose bower over the lilac tree. Nampara did not exist. Ross had no mother or father or uncle or cousins. He had a smiling woman in white who led him to a beautiful sleigh. "Come under my wrap, little one. Ross did so, his pupils so wide as to fill to the edge of his irises, his arms around her waist staring at the trees in the distance. He lay his head on her ermine draped breast and felt...nothing. "Yes," smiled the Snow Queen. "That's lovely... be my companion and remain at my side. Soon, you will not even feel the cold. You will trust only me." Ross nodded, It was easy to obey. He did not have to think. "I shall bring you to my beautiful palace and you shall forget everything about this life..." Ross nodded once more. "My love is peaceful and safe. You will not be bothered by troubles. Your heart will soon be as hard as diamonds. Feelings only destroy people," said Elizabeth with a motherly pat to Ross' head. "It is best to be above everything, as I am..." She snapped the reins and the horses ran forward. Ran upward. The sleigh lifted into the sky and Ross watched the same stars that shone so prettily, up in the sky, rush past, quite near. He looked upwards in the huge empty space above him, and on she flew with him; flew high over the black clouds, while the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew over woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them the chilling storms rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and bright. He stared ahead, watching the moon lit pure, the stars shinning as Elizabeth curled her arm around him, much as she saw Dem do when she first spied them. "You will not know joy but you will also not know sadness. You will feel nothing and care for no one. You will be like me. Not happy, not sad. In this, you will find contentment." Ross was like a kitten pressed next to it's mother. It's true mother...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edge Of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks 1982
> 
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Who who who  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> And the days go by  
> Like a strand in the wind  
> In the web that is my own  
> I begin again  
> Said to my friend, baby  
> Nothin' else mattered  
> He was no more than a baby then  
> Well he seemed broken hearted  
> Something within him  
> But the moment that I first laid  
> Eyes on him all alone  
> On the edge of seventeen  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> I went today maybe I will go again  
> Tomorrow  
> And the music there it was hauntingly  
> Familiar  
> And I see you doing  
> What I try to do for me  
> With the words from a poet  
> And the voice from a choir  
> And a melody nothing else mattered  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> The clouds never expect it  
> When it rains  
> But the sea changes colors  
> But the sea  
> Does not change  
> And so with the slow graceful flow  
> Of age  
> I went forth with an age old  
> Desire to please  
> On the edge of seventeen  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Well then suddenly  
> There was no one left standing  
> In the hall yeah yeah  
> In a flood of tears  
> That no one really ever heard fall at all  
> Oh I went searchin' for an answer,  
> Up the stairs and down the hall  
> Not to find an answer  
> Just to hear the call  
> Of a nightbird singing  
> Come away come away  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh  
> Well I hear you in the morning  
> And I hear you  
> At nightfall  
> Sometime to be near you  
> Is to be unable to hear you  
> My love  
> I'm a few years older than you  
> Just like the white winged dove  
> Sings a song  
> Sounds like she's singing  
> Oh baby oh said oh
> 
> "I should hope we know we are! And, when we die our loved ones cry REAL tears!" I constantly utilize quotes and dialogue from both Poldark TV shows and the books in this series without attribution, but this exchange with the wood dove (and Elizabeth's snit fit, "you're all such simple little creatures..." is based on Verity/ Elizabeth (Norma Streader and Jill Townsend) dialogue from the 1970s Poldark  
>    
> "He looked upwards in the huge empty space above him, and on she flew with him...but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and bright." This passage is direct from Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen, published in 1844.
> 
> Elizabeth's dialogue, after the kiss, is the 1995 English translation of the abduction in Снежная королева/Snezhnaya koroleva, the 1957 animated version of the Snow Queen from Soyuzmultfilm studio.


	31. New Year's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quest

Demelza did not know her way around Jud's kitchen as a cook. She had passed through it often, had snacks, she saw Jud dealing with food from time to time. She knew where the cake tin was kept. Prudie was not versed in it either but they found the tea, and Prudie sent Dem through the yard to bring some of theirs, to supplement. Jud had a steady influx of visitors. Saturday morning, Prudie and Dem came through the front door and both hugged Jud who looked near to collapse from grief. They held him close, held Jud upright in some repects. Dem could feel him sagging on his feet from grief and lack of sleep. He sat in a chair and held his head in his hands as villagers came. Bringing eggs, bringing cakes wrapped in napkins, bringing pasties should Jud be too stricken to cook for himself. He thanked his visitors. Everyone spoke in hushed tones. Dem stayed in the kitchen. She made tea, portioned out the various sweets that were brought on plates so Prudie could offer them to guests. Dem sat at the table where Ross had so often smiled at her and felt numb. Jud clearly lost hope. When she did venture into the parlor, Dem nodded, numbly, accepted neighbors' condolences, placed a reassuring hand on Jud's back. He patted her hand in melancholic gratitude. She passed through the room to leave out more biscuits and looked out the front window. Prudie was talking, murmuring in serious discussion, to some of the older women, out on the street, wrapped in a shawl, for the press of people had made the house quite warm. They turned, as one, to look at the house and Dem retreated from the window, only just seen as a curly haired silhouette disappearing from the window. Dem returned to the kitchen. Dem hid. Everyone knew she and Ross were set to wed. She was not ready to be a bereaved widow. They had not wed but she felt her world close in. She had lost her man... she'd not entertain the idea there could be another one. Ross had been her companion since she was five. They had only just become lovers but their friendship had been her whole life...  
Saturday supper was an array of snatched snacks and oceans of tea. The visitors left around six in the evening. Constable Vage gave his respects to Jud and Dem as Prudie poured more tea. The constable said they could start dragging the river as soon as midweek if the ice broke up. He departed and the house was silent. Jud sat in the armchair, staring into the fire. Prudie lay a loving hand on Jud's shoulder and, after holding himself circumspect for a week, burst into tears. Laying his head against Prudie's apron as she stood, sentry like, by him. Prudie tended Jud with tenderness and love, holding him as he wept. After a long cry, with Prudie rubbing his back, Jud blinked up at her and said,

  
"I ain't never asked the Almighty fer nothin' save sparin' Master Ross t'grow t'be a man..."

  
Prudie lead him upstairs to bed and remained there for some minutes. She came back downstairs. "Dem, I be stayin' t'see t'Jud. 'E shouldn't be alone, like..." Dem nodded. "D'ee wants t'stay 'ere or be o'er t'the house?" Dem sighed. "I'll be in our house, Prudie." Prudie nodded and went to check on the kitchen. They would remain tomorrow for fielding more visitors. Dem sat in the parlor. She looked into the fire, dully. They wanted to drag the river. She looked out over the snow laden ground. If Ross was truly dead wouldn't she know it? Wouldn't she feel it in her heart? Did the river take her love? A small seed of an idea was forming. If she sacrificed something to the river would it tell her the answer? If she looked for Ross could she find him? Alive? Everyone said he must have frozen to death, but she couldn't bring herself to believe this. If she found him dead...at least she would know.

  
The next morning, Prudie began screaming. Jud woke from a sleep that hadn't really rested him to find Prudie, in the parlor, waving a bit of paper in one hand and bracing herself one an armchair with the other. Screaming agony and bent double in sadness. Dem left them a note saying she was searching for Ross. Now both their children were lost. Jud sat her down and tried to calm her. This was a disaster. They now must search for Dem, who may have been crazed from the grief of losing her fiance and might freeze in the elements herself. Jud braced himself against the mantle. Last week, they were the happiest they'd ever been. Now Ross was feared dead and Dem gone missing. He cared for Ross all these years and now he was gone...  
Jud looked to the snuff box on the mantle. It had belonged to Ross' father, Joshua. The finely worked top had a stag and a unicorn, meeting in a verdant wood, surrounded by a frame of scrolls and leaves. The sides had vines weaving in and around each other, around the entire box. He had saved Ross' milk teeth, strung on a string like a bracelet and kept them in it. He picked it up and, at once, felt something wrong. No rattle of the teeth as he picked it up. He fumbled to open it and gasped. Prudie, still wrung out in her distress asked, "Wha...wha is it, luv...?" Jud held the snuff box in his hands and spoke in disbelief.  
"It be empty! 'Is teeth be gone!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Day, U2 1983
> 
> All is quiet on New Year's Day  
> A world in white gets underway  
> I want to be with you  
> Be with you, night and day  
> Nothing changes on New Year's Day  
> On New Year's Day  
> I will be with you again  
> I will be with you again  
> Under a blood red sky  
> A crowd has gathered in black and white  
> Arms entwined, the chosen few  
> The newspapers says, says  
> Say it's true, it's true  
> And we can break through  
> Though torn in two  
> We can be one  
> I, I will begin again  
> I, I will begin again  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Oh, oh  
> Ah, maybe the time is right  
> Oh, maybe tonight  
> I will be with you again  
> I will be with you again  
> And so we're told this is the golden age  
> And gold is the reason for the wars we wage  
> Though I want to be with you, be with you  
> Night and day  
> Nothing changes  
> On New Year's Day  
> On New Year's Day  
> On New Year's Day


	32. Sweetness And Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylaid

Demelza considered what she must do. The river was a force of nature and might not give her answers if she did not have an offering. Mrs. Kemp, in her regard for her pupils' love of stories and Ross and Dem's vivid imagination made a point of teaching them myths and legends of antiquity. Nearly all mentioned placating gods and spirits with an offering. Dem was at a loss to decide what would be important enough to sacrifice. In the end, offering her red shoes from the ball seemed best. They were precious to her and linked her to Ross. She had not left Jud and Prudie intending to fail. Demelza did not know where Ross was but she was haunted by the idea that she would feel it, if he truly not alive anymore. That blood called to blood. Ross was her blood brother and that link meant she would know in her blood, in her bones, if he was gone. Dem did not believe Ross was dead. The villagers and even Jud lost hope, but Dem had faith that some sort of finality would settle over her, the sever of their link would be physical. There could be answers... ask the river.

  
Dem prepared for the journey by tying on her sweets pocket, for a knife was often useful. But leaving home to find Ross struck her as the sort of quest in which having something of Ross' with her might help her. Something to remember him by, a way of claiming her authority as his fiance. Something to steel her resolve, help her press on even if all hope seemed lost. Jud had told them that witches could have power over a person if they possessed their teeth. Dem did not consider herself to be a witch, but thought having Ross' milk teeth might strengthen her claim, a undeniable proof that his family had the right of his return. That Jud and Prudie and Dem were Ross' true people and she could demand his return by that right. She took the strand of milk teeth from the snuffbox on the gents' mantle, over the fireplace. She brought them to their house and sat in her parlor, by Prudie's sewing basket and carefully sewed the strand of teeth to a slender length of ribbon. She found the smallest needle in Prudie's pincushion and sewed the strand of teeth, string and all, on an ivory colored ribbon. She worked carefully even as her hands were shaking and she kept having to use the backs of her hands and her kerchief to wipe her eyes. They kept tearing. Dem felt in her heart that Ross was still alive but she feared finding him dead, feared she might be self deceiving. Maybe her grief was playing tricks on her. Mayhaps she had gone mad... Do sane people throw their precious dancing shoes in the river and expect it to tell what it knows? Demelza worked to make sure the teeth were firmly attached and would not fall off the ribbon. Jud had always said that even one tooth was enough to bewitch a person. Ross' teeth must not be lost in her journey. Satisfied they were secure, Dem knotted the ribbon around her neck and tucked it under her dress. She could feel them rest over her breasts and felt content over the idea that they were near her heart and safe beneath her clothes. She wrapped two heart cakes and a pasty in a napkin, tied her better cloak on tight and left her home. Dem, quiet as a mouse went back into Ross' house and left a note to Prudie and Jud on the kitchen table so they knew she had chosen to search for Ross. Ebb and Flow rubbed themselves round her legs, meowing. She could almost believe they were wishing her luck. She cuddled them both, sitting on the kitchen floor, in the grand cloak of a fine lady, carrying Prudie's food to sustain her, her pocket knife, once Ross' and the knife with which they had made their blood brother oath, Jud's strand of Ross' milk teeth -her blood brother's teeth- over her breast and her red shoes, one in each apron pocket. Girded for what may come, crying as she said her goodbye to Ross' cats.

  
Dem struggled through the deep snow, it took a great deal of time to reach the waters edge. The night was dark but the snow seemed to give light of its own accord. The riverbank had been a dear place. She played along the river with the other children, she played and explored along side Ross. She often kissed Ross, in the grass, by the river. The river had witnessed their young love... She and the river were not strangers. Ice stretched across the surface of the river so she walked its length for some time before she found free running river to be able to toss in her shoes. In the silent stillness of winter Demelza called to the river, hope in her heart.

"River? Mighty river, it is said that Ross has drowned within you. I am his blood brother. I will give you my beloved red shoes! Please, mighty river, do you hold my blood brother?!"

Demelza took her shoes from her pockets, looked across the river with sad eyes, then kissed the tips of the red shoes, first one then the other. She had danced all night with Ross at the ball and they fed each other sweets, celebrating their engagement. She closed her eyes briefly, like a prayer, shoes in her hands, pressing against Ross' teeth under her clothes. With a deep breath she begged, "Please!" and threw them in the river. The river felt sad for her. It did not have her playfellow, her blood brother, but it could not speak the human tongue. It could not tell her. All it could do was push her shoes back to the riverbank. The river would not keep her shoes, it felt it hadn't the right. Dem watched the shoes wash back on to the bank. She did not know that, in itself, was the river's answer. She came closer. Dem thought she had not thrown them far enough. She scanned the riverbank. The first light of dawn lit the white ground. She saw an old rowboat and decided to try to get further in, to give the river her shoes once more. Dem stepped into the boat, which lurched and bobbled about with a cracking sound of ice breaking free of the water's surface. She lifted an oar and pushed away from the riverbank. The boat lurched suddenly. Dem lost her footing and hit her head on the slat of wood, meant for a seat in the boat. The boat drifted free of the bank, free of the ice, free on the water. The boat carried Dem onward, carried her, unconscious for some miles.

Dem woke feeling over warm. She stirred at the bottom of the boat and looked up at a pretty, blue sky. Warm... Not the frigid winter she struggled through to get to the river's edge. She sat up to see she was in another place entirely. Demelza looked about in a panic. She did not know where she was. Then she wondered, perhaps the river was taking her to Ross. This cheered her and she ate the food she brought with her and watched the swallows swooping and flying near, as if to give her companionship on her strange journey. Dem laid the second of Prudie's heart cakes on the seat of the boat and little birds from far and wide ate from it, enjoying the morsels of sweet cake and thanking Dem by singing her sweetly to sleep, to sweeten her rest as they kept watch over such a generous girl with such a pure heart. Dem napped at the bottom of the boat. When she woke the heart cake was all eaten up and the birds were flying near a verdant, beautiful river bank. It seemed to Dem that it was the height of a splendid summer here and a cherry grove could be seen on the bank. Cherries so red and fine, glowing from sunlight, they might have been wrought from glass.  
A cottage came into view. It was a grand, fanciful house. There were very beautiful stained glass windows rather than clear glass and two wooden soldiers, as tall as the house, stood sentry by the front door. Demelza looked at them with a sense of foreboding. They were wooden decorations but their eyes seemed to be following her, tracking the progress of the boat. An older woman with a raven on her shoulder came round from the back of the house, looking at her with interest. She took a large staff with a crooked end and walked to the river's edge. The woman caught hold of the boat and drew it to land. Dem sat up, holding the sides of the boat as she was pulled ashore. The woman smiled kindly but Dem still felt ill at ease.

"There's a dearie... Come along, bud... How'd a sweet little thing like you get caught out on the river?" Dem hesitated. The woman was kindly looking but the raven stared at Dem from its perch on her shoulder and the light of the day did not seem to glint in the woman's eyes properly. The light in her eyes seemed to be lit from within. Dem blinked and the woman's eyes became ordinary. Warm blue eyes with a merry crinkle from being so pleased to meet her. Dem realized it must have been a trick of the light. The woman was old and heavy set, in a shamrock green redingote with a cream constrast at the skirt. She had a brimmed hat that that still allowed the raven to fit on her shoulder and emeralds at her wrists and around her neck set along fine gold chains. Little dots of green sparkling in gold. "I am Meggy Dawes, a gardener. Come dearie," as she held out her hand to help Dem out. "You surely have a story to tell..." Dem found herself seated at a round table, covered in a sparkling white cloth in a cozy, country kitchen. The tablecloth was so pristine Dem found it hard to look at. A cut glass bowl held the prettiest cherries Demelza had ever seen. The light poured through the bowl and the cherries and stained the cloth with colored light. It might have been blood, staining the table in a starburst of facets from the pattern in the bowl. "Tell me, bud... Where you are from and the nature of your journey. You have come far and are certainly a lady!" Demezla told the woman of her search for Ross, asking the river if he had been drowned. The woman looked at her, this way and that. The raven looked at her, this way and that. Dem startled when the raven flew from the old woman's shoulder to a perch across the room. The lady laughed. Dem did see that she had pointed teeth, like a cat. This disturbed Dem and, once again, she looked and saw herself mistaken. The woman smiled an ordinary, human smile. "And you have a noble quest, my child. Let us see how we get along, my dear. I live here with my black bird and tend my garden. I raise cherries, but I also have a flower garden that grows all the flowers there are." Dem's eyes widened. Wouldn't Prudie love to see such a garden! Dem would ask to see it so she could tell Prudie all about it but before she could, the lady pushed the bowl of cherries in front of Demelza. "Please, my little rosebud, do have as many cherries as you like. My cherries are the finest to be had! So clear and without blemish! You can see the stone, so clear are they. And the lady set a small glass dish on the table so Dem could discard the cherry pits. Then she sat across from Dem and asked in an off hand manner, "Tell me child, about your aunt's garden..." Dem took a cherry and had to agree, it was most delicious, sweetest cherry Dem had ever tasted and the prettiest for it was clear as jelly, like it was made of red glass. She found herself unable to stop and soon her dish filled with stones. As she ate she spoke of the rose bower and the lilac tree and Prudie's loving care over Ross and Dem, when they were small, making sure in fair weather that they had their naps by the sweet smelling lilac tree and the roses. Dem's pupils widened, more and more, as she told the woman about Jud and Prudie and Ross and the happy life they led between two houses. The woman smiled. This girl was heaven sent. She dearly wanted a girl to keep her company and surely an aunt, burdened with her care, a caretaker who suffered her following around his child like a shadow, would not miss her. The playmate was dead. No one to miss her... "Your hair is tangled, little bud... I shall comb it for you. "Thank...you..." said Dem. Meggy stood and left the kitchen, soon to return with a comb. She stood behind Dem and slowly began to comb her hair. The white cloth. The red cherries. The gentle stroke of the comb, a gold comb. With each pass of the comb, Dem forgot Prudie and their dear house, their dear yard. She forgot Jud. She forgot Garrick and Tabitha Bethia. Ebb and Flow. The orchard. The woods. And, yes, Dem forgot Ross too. The comb took her memory of her former life and she sat in a contented daze as the woman left the house and, with a flourish of her crook, made her lilac tree and her rose bush sink into the ground. She hid them for they might remind Dem of her former home if she saw them. Meggy Dawes was not an evil being but sometimes loneliness can drive a white witch to extremes. She had no children and wanted a girl to love and play about the garden and be her companion. Dem said in a monotone confusion, "I'm that tired, Ma'am..." Meggy smiled. "After such a day I expect you would be. Come and rest. In the morning I shall show you my garden." Meggy led her upstairs to a pretty room with a pretty bed, a coverlet of crimson silk and a nightgown as soft as a chick's down. Dem fell in dreamless sleep at once.

In the morning Dem woke, glad for the summer and the warm weather. Glad for Miss Meggy for she gave Dem cherries for breakfast and let her play in the garden all day long. Miss Meggy hugged her and kissed her and said Dem was as pretty as a flower and now her garden truly had all the flowers there are. Dem was delighted to play in the garden, under the watchful eyes of the wooden soldiers and the raven who lived with them. By the afternoon she came to a clearing that puzzled her. It seemed as if something should grow here, but did not. Dem scanned the ground, to see if the soil was turned for planting. It was not but she did see violets growing in the grass all about. These little flowers made her feel strange. Made her feel... ill... Dem looked at the violets and felt sick. Meggy had hidden the roses and lilacs for fear they should make Demelza remember. Dem had not told Meggy Dawes about the violet petals on the sugar bun she shared with Ross. It was these flowers that not only made Dem begin to remember, she began to be sick. The raven spied Dem fall to her knees and vomit. Dem was frightened at first that she was bringing up blood but it was only Miss Meggy's cherries. Dem became violently sick and brought up all the cherries she had been fed. A red, stained glass pulp, a thick, glossy puddle in the grass. She had not digested them at all. The raven flew to his mistress immediately. "Alack! Alack! The maid has fallen!" Meggy looked up in concern. "What DO you mean?!" The raven flew in circles and back outside. "Alack! Alack!" it crowed. Meggy retrieved her staff, followed the raven and came upon Dem in time to see a strange happening.

  
Dem lay in the grass, shivering. Eye level with the pretty green leaves and pretty purple-blue violets. Her pupils were shrinking, returning to normal. She began to cry. Ross was missing and she must find Ross, her dear blood brother. Hot tears, hot like fire ran from her eyes to the ground beneath her. As Meggy approached, Dem's tears sank into the ground and a rumbling, like an earthquake tremor, shook the ground. Meggy had to cling to her staff to stay upright. The ground in front of Dem burst forth with a sudden growth of a tree that bore lilacs and roses, fused together. The perfume was thick and sweet. The branches shimmered with golden light and the gorgeous blooms of both flowers. Dem struggled to lift her head and crawl to the tree as the raven hopped upon the ground and flapped its wings, urgently crying out to Meggy, "Alack! Alack! Don't let her touch the tree!" Meggy rushed forward as Dem grasped the branches of the lilac rose tree and drew strength from it. She remembered her home and Prudie and Jud and all the animals and her dearest Ross as she clung to the tree and began to stand. "Alack! Alack! The maid is free!" Dem cried, "I must be free! I must find Ross!" Both Meggy and the raven were struck dumb. No human should understand the speech of birds. This girl rejected Meggy Dawes' cherries, the pulp lay in a puddle at Meggy's feet. This girl heard the raven declare her freedom. Dem looked at them both, the raven standing on the witch's shoulder. She was unsteady on her feet but gaining strength from the lilac rose tree. The light from the tree made her hair look like fire. "Please!" said Dem, "I must find my blood brother!" The raven said "Child, do you hear me?" Both the bird and the witch widened their eyes when Dem said, "Yes, I hear you." Meggy was stumped. How did this girl understand the raven and resist her enchanted cherries? "Please! Help me find my blood brother!" Meggy had wanted a child to keep her company, but there was more to this girl than meets the eye. "Bud, you are on a worthy quest. You have a hand, unseen, over you. You must continue your journey. Come to the house. You must prepare for the journey on foot. My magic is not strong enough for the answers you seek." They went back to the house. Meggy explained that Demelza must walk ten days journey to the princess in her castle. She could help Demelza by giving her a carriage to take her to the New Forest where the Witch of the New Forest could help locate her blood brother. She would send the raven with her so Dem would not get lost. "Thank you, Miss Meggy!" Dem hugged her and Meggy Dawes hug was so warm and heartfelt that they both cried tears of gratitude. Dem happy to have guidance in her search for Ross and Meggy having had, for a short while, Dem's companionship. Dem waved goodbye. Meggy waved goodbye and Demelza could see Meggy as she really was, see the witch's pointed teeth in her smile and strange eyes that glowed as she waved her handkerchief, fondly. Dem was able to see affection in Meggy for all that her features were strange.

Dem walked with the raven on her shoulder. He spoke of the pretty things he had seen in his travels and Dem told him about her life with Ross and, in this way, ten days travel on foot elapsed quickly. The raven guarded her as Dem slept and brought her nuts and fruit so she was able to eat on the journey. She found herself in front of a beautiful palace with two imposing guards, up on the parapet. The drawbridge was up and Dem was at a loss how to enter. "What do I do?" The raven looked up at the guards and said, "Ask permission to enter, to speak to the princess." Dem straightened her travel worn clothes as best she could and stepped forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweetness And Light, Lush 1990
> 
> See my life (I've been so tired)  
> See my self (I've been uptight)  
> See my life (I've been so tired)  
> See my sight (I could disappear)  
> See with you memories fading fast  
> And with you it's never going to last  
> You are the sweetness in my eyes  
> You are an apple in disguise  
> See with you  
> I never seemed to look the other way  
> Only to stay, only to breathe  
> Only to see  
> That space and light is what I really need  
> I never wanted to tell lies  
> You are the sweetness in my eyes  
> You are the juice I need for life  
> You are the sweetness in my eyes


	33. 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captive

'Snowflakes are perfect...' thought Ross. 'They have exact sides and repeat their patterns without fault...' Ross sat on the floor, watching snowflakes fall, able to see them individually and admire the stark beauty of their perfection. Beauty in perfection. No disorder to distress or upset him. 'How could one bear disorder? Isn't it wonderful to see all the various shades of white, blue and grey. In concert. In harmony. A perfect life with my...' Ross felt confused. Elizabeth was vexed. She could not waste more kisses to dull his mind. It was retaining more memory than one would think possible in a puny human. By next winter this would not matter. No dispute in her ownership of him. It would remain in her realm and she would freeze Ross to death once she tired of it. But Ross would die entirely hers. She disliked the stubborn remembrance of love with that odd little girl. "Do you remember love, Ross?" She asked. Ross blinked. He knit his brows. "I...?" There was a shadow somewhere. It was frightening. It brought disorder. Colors, clashing everywhere...strange things that grew, each different than their fellows, not exact. An anarchy of color and... "Is love good or bad?" asked Ross, confused. Elizabeth smiled and laughed. Ross smiled. He must have pleased her. "Love is disorderly. We prefer order, do we not?" Ross nodded eagerly and lay back down at the Snow Queen's feet. For entertainment she would have it recount its school days. Ross told her of suffering, of human cruelty and the stories strengthened her resolve that she did right in claiming her human boy. It lay by her feet and spoke in a daze. The memories of school did not touch Ross, unless she wanted them to, even as he spoke of shocking abuse. Ross was numbed. She often allowed it to be numb. This was a blessing, thought Elizabeth. I have saved this child from its terrors that these stories may please me in my ennui without harm. I am merciful. "Again" said Elizabeth. "I should like to hear what a 'King's fifth' feels like...I have so few feelings of my own..."

She often stroked him with her foot, as one might with a dog, or an obedient slave. She sat in her splendor. A crown of diamonds that resembled snowflakes, a white silk gown that flowed like a glacier down to the floor. Her feet were bare, for she was vain over their prettiness. She ran her toes across him and, sometimes, she would let him feel the cold as she did so. She enjoyed watching him shiver. She enjoyed telling him she who took the cold away and numbed him again. His benevolent queen. A young pet in a palace of ice, owned by a mistress who enjoyed knowing she had stolen him from someone else and whose bravado was nullified. This child who dared to suggest he would melt her on a stove and his simpering infant of a lover. A girl too timid to take what was hers. She'd ask him about that too. Immature wrestling, childish touching and juvenile petting. They were cowardly and strange. They were not bold enough to answer nature, to mate like the animals they were. Bound by a promise, he said. A promise to keep the girl "pure". Elizabeth did have feelings. Entitlement. Jealousy. Superiority. Sadism. She had Ross remember, sometimes, as he spoke of school, just to see his distress. Then she tended him with kindness, spoke sweetly, that Ross might know that the human that hurt him was only one of many who would hurt her pet. Much better to be safe by the side of your queen... She was of two minds over Ross' stubborn retention of his life with Dem. It would be easier to have him forget all together but she liked hearing how worthless a lover the girl was. It was a source of fascination. It helped her feel she had better claim to this boy. She would not falter or be timid. Elizabeth could not. She only had one chance to claim him as a lover for he would die. It was better. He would know pleasure from her alone. The little girl he played about with was not a proper women. Ross would know pleasure before he met his reward. He would be hard pressed to melt her in a stove once he froze in her arms...

When she retired to her bed, Ross remained on the floor by her empty throne. When she went about her tasks -frosting the tips of the volcanoes of the warm weather countries with snow, managing winter in the various places where it was required- Elizabeth would occasionally take out a locket that opened to a crystal disc in which she could scry, and see Ross, cold and befuddled, curled on the floor and lying in obedience for his mistress. It cheered her, to see her pet as she took a pause from her work, though her emotions were so strange and curdled it was not what cheer truly should be. It was a beauty. Hair as dark as hers, as if the boy had been made for her, spilling forth beneath its head as it lay with a vacant stare. It was a clever little thing. Thoughtful. Ross stared, fascinated at the precision of her snowflakes. A true admirer, each crystal facet noticed and valued. It loved looking at her work. It seemed to be able to dream upon them forever. She occasionally left treats for it in the snowflakes. Kaleidoscope images of her eyes, images of wolves and rats snarling, scorpions and snakes hissing. Ross would startle and cower closer to the base of the throne. Then she knew that it was paying close attention to her craftsmanship. It would be delicious. She would pleasure herself with it, him, take her pleasure with him, humans were gendered... Watch the life silt up within him and freeze. End. Taking her pleasure would kill it so she must not be impatient. Take enjoyment were it can be found. If it's memory was so stubbornly active, take joy in small things. In the child's misery. In her pet's fear. By the time she took Ross it would feel no emotions at all. His heart would be as hard as a diamond. There could only be one last feeling. Her coaxing the last life out of Ross when they mated. A triumph of revenge for a childish boast. No harm in it, no sin. Not like the human who violated him. Not like the immature games of the little girl. Ross was nearly a man. Nearly eighteen, in human years. Elizabeth would have him at eighteen, his peak of perfection. Like an ripened apple...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees, Susanne Vega 1992
> 
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> Stable now, with rising possibilities  
> It could be normal but it isn't quite  
> Could make you want to stay awake at night  
> You seem to me  
> Like a man  
> 0n the verge of burning  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> Pale as a candle  
> And your face is hot  
> And if I touch you  
> I might get what you've got  
> You seem to me  
> Like a man  
> On the verge of running  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> Something cool  
> Against the skin  
> Is what you could be  
> Something cool  
> Against the skin  
> Is what you  
> Could be needing  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> You seem to me  
> Like a man  
> On the verge of burning  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> Something cool  
> Against the skin  
> Is what you could be  
> Something cool  
> Against your skin  
> Is what you  
> Could be needing  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees  
> 99.9 Fahrenheit degrees
> 
> King's fifth: as explained in Chapter 10:Hell Is For Children, an established, real life, caning punishment in which four horizontal strokes are then struck vertically by the fifth.


	34. Wonderous Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assistance

The raven remained with Dem, feeling honor bound to escort her. Dem walked forward with the bird on her shoulder and called up to the guards. "Hello? May I please speak to the princess?" The guards, dressed in chain mail under a tunic of rose pink with a golden spear on its front, looked at the girl on the other side of the drawbridge. She did not look like the honored guests that gained entry here. "They don't look as if they want to let me in..." said Dem. The raven looked this way and that. "Have patience..." Dem nodded. "Yes, raven..." The guards watched Dem converse with the bird on her shoulder. "Who are you, child" asked one. "What is your business here?" asked the other. Dem could only answer the truth, as strange as it may sound. "I was told by Meggy Dawes to beg the use of a coach, that I may travel to the New Forest." This did not sound proper. The guards disapeared. Dem spoke in an undertone. "What do we do now?" The raven gave a derisive snort. "They are the sort who have to be told what to do. You must wait for their return." Dem sat on the ground and waited. "Good morrow!" Dem turned to see a well dressed man, not as old as Jud, not as young as Ross. Somewhere quite inbetween. He had kind eyes, carried a flat, hinged wooden box and smiled in a way that put her at ease. She stood, and the raven flapped a little to keep his balance. "Are you alright?" asked Dem. The raven said, "Yes, but you're a quick little thing! Give me some warning when you stand!" Dem giggled. "I'm sorry!" The man looked at her quizzically. "Are you speaking to me?" She looked to the man again. "No, forgive me. I was speaking to the raven." The bird whispered, "He does not understand my speech." The man smiled. "My aunt had a spaniel. I often spoke to him..." Dem smiled. He looked to find common ground rather than suggest she was a lunatic. She curtsied and the raven maintained his balance. "I am Demelza Carne, sir." He bowed. "Well met, I am Dwight Enys. What brings you to my home?" Dem's eyes widened. "Oh! Do you know the prin..." At that moment the guards came back. "Lower the drawbridge!" Dem stepped back, a little unnerved by the deafening noise of the drawbridge creaking down. "May I escort you, miss?" Dem smiled. "Thank you, sir." And, with the gentle escort of this friendly gentleman, leading her by the hand like a courtier, Dem and the raven entered the castle. The guards bowed to the gentleman and they walked forward, through a courtyard with an ornate fountain at its center.

Dem looked around, looking all about with her eyes, not able to turn her head to the left for fear of knocking the raven off her shoulder. The entrance to the house was accessed by pink marble stairs and she watched her feet take each step in awe of how even stairs could be beautiful if one chose to make them so. Like the formal garden at Trenwith, this place was made to look impressive as well as luxurious. Dem was content with village life but she did enjoy seeing how others lived and liked the prettiness of everything here. Dwight motioned forward with the wooden box he was holding and she and the raven walked forward into the castle. The light dimmed. It was cool inside, refreshing compared to the strong sun out of doors. Footmen bowed to Dwight and looked at her with confusion, but not in an impudent way. They walked through halls lines with tapestries that might have been based on Meggy's garden. The woven hangings looked so verdant and real Dem might have tried to walk through them. "Your house is very beautiful!" said Dem. Dwight smiled. "Thank you, Miss Carne. Caroline is most likely having tea with Horace. I do hope you are hungry..."

They came to a long hall with a long table. The wooden chairs that lined either side in strict, evenly spaced rows, all had very tall backs, lined with pink velvet and at the head of the table in a similar chair sat an extremely pretty woman in a light blue dress, feeding a little pug dog treats on her lap. "Dwight, my dear, is this our young witch?" Dem's eyes widened. "I beg pardon, Ma'am. I'm not a witch!" Dwight set his wooden box on the table and exchanged a kiss with the princess before standing by her side. "Do sit down, my dear." said the princess. "You say you are not a witch, but Meggy Dawes has sent you and the guards say you talk to that blackbird as if it is your familar..." said the princess in an amused tone of voice. Dem conceded that her first impression might have led to this idea. The raven and the pug dog looked at each other warily. "Oh, Horace, really! You must not menace our guest!" Dem giggled. When Dwight said 'Horace' she imagined him to be a person the way the princess assumed she was hosting a witch. Dem sat and then Dwight took a chair. "My name is Caroline." Dem, wanting to be polite said, "I am pleased to meet you, your highness." Caroline chuckled. "Thank you for ennobling me, but I am not a true princess. Meggy Dawes is over awed by my home, that is her moniker for me." Dem looked about the hall, the tapestries, the servants. Caroline smiled. "My uncle is fond of high living and enjoys these trappings." "Oh!" said Dem in suprise.

They enjoyed a very formal, extremely delicious tea. The raven was given an assortment of insects and finely minced meat in an artful display on a golden plate with an accompanying dish of water. Dem had dizzying amount of choice of different sandwiches shaped like diamonds, small cakes of every description and a smoky flavored black tea that matched both savories and sweets. Dwight opened the wooden box to show Caroline the herbs he had collected in the wild. "I enjoy experiments with plants. They are fascinating. There are many medicines to be had from plants." Caroline smiled, indulgently. "Dwight may yet find a way to transform base metals into gold... But you, my dear. Demelza?" Dem nodded, trying to hurry to chew and swallow the cake she was eating. "Yes, Ma'am," her hostess smiled warmly. "Do call me Caroline. Meggy Dawes has sent you to me for aid. There must be quite a tale behind that. Mistress Dawes is a wise woman. One wonders how I may help you if she could not. So, Demelza," and she resettled Horace on her lap. "You must tell us your wondrous story!"  
Caroline and Dwight listened to Dem explain her situation. Given to a cool, sardonic wit and demeanor, even Caroline became distraught and emotional as Dem told of her quest to find her fiance. "...Miss Meggy said her magic was too limited and I must travel to the New Forest to ask the witch who lives there where Ross is." Dem spoke plainly even as she started to cry. "I feel he must still be alive. I think I would feel it if he were dead. Ross is my blood brother as well as my betrothed..." Caroline passed her own handkerchief to Dem and looked to Dwight who was also moved by Dem's story. "It is but a triffle to give you a carriage! It would be my pleasure to aid you in your mission, my dear! Please rest here tonight and in the morning, all shall be arranged. You shall have a coach and retinue to bring you to the New Forest and the witch there will surely help you, she has many powers! She is the progenitor of most of the covens in England!" Dem wondered if Caroline herself was a witch. She seemed to speak with authority in these matters and suggested that Meggy's raven was Dem's familiar. The raven whispered, "M'lady's late mother was a witch, Caroline does not partake in the Craft but its like mother's milk to her... An ally, if you like..." Dem nodded. Caroline narrowed her eyes, good naturedly. Like everyone else, Caroline could not understand the raven. She relied on Dem's quick look towards her as proof the bird was discussing her. "Dwight!" smiled Caroline as she lifted her teacup towards the raven before taking another sip. "I should think my ears are burning, but no matter..." The raven chuckled. Dem liked the raven and her hosts. They all strove to help her without hesitation and were so friendly. "A room shall be prepared directly, rest for the journey and tomorrow, after breakfast, you will be on your way." Dem, who was grateful for Caroline's generosity, became tearful. "Thank you so much!" Dwight and Caroline smiled. This girl's tale was sad and helping her find her man was a just cause. It was clear that their love was true. Caroline personally escorted Dem and the raven to her drawing room where Caroline set Horace in his basket, settled herself in her favorite chair and a quartet of string musicians played soothing music. Caroline let Dem rest on a pink satin chaise, full of plump, satin pillows until dinner with the raven perched on its ornately carved back. Determined to make Dem feel better, Caroline rang for her servants to bring them each a small glass of syllabub to restore her, above and beyond the wonderful tea, for Caroline felt that ten days of eating nuts and berries was not sufficient sustenance. Dwight continued work, experimenting with botanical extracts and they all met again in the evening for the meal. The raven as well as the humans were waited on by footmen, in pink satin livery and white gloves, who took plates away as they were finished and brought the next course. Dem was charmed to see that the raven was given its food on miniature plates that matched the set the humans used. This home was not a stranger to hosting magical beings. Caroline and Dwight bid Dem and the raven good night. She was given a maid who helped her bathe and ready herself for bed. When she was in bed, the raven flew to stand by her pillow. Dem turned in the dark to speak to him. "All our journey together and I never asked your name!" The raven laughed. "I have no name, 'the raven' suits me down to the ground. But listen, my child. I will see you off tomorrow morning but I shall not accompany you to the New Forest, I must return to the Mistress." Dem nodded. "Thank you for helping me." said Dem. The raven seemed to smile, even though the room was dark, even though it had a beak. It smiled at Dem. "I will pray for your good outcome, flame child." Dem knit her brow. "Flame child?" The raven pecked her forehead, gently. Dem realized the bird had given her a kiss. "You have power, though you know it not." The raven perched on a golden ring, a device left by the maid for that purpose, and they fell asleep. Dem tried to think through what the raven had said but tiredness, from walking ten days on foot, overtook her. In the morning, after a splendid breakfast of kedgeree, the raven's portion garnished with meal worms, Dem was introduced to her staff. A coachman and two footmen were her companions in her journey. Dem would ride to the New Forest in a carriage of gold with pink velvet seats that were plush and could be slept upon in comfort. There were four crystal coach lamps to light their way at night and a splendid tent that the coachman and footmen could pitch and retire to sleep in at night. She had a chest of provisions, a cured ham, bread, dried apples, pots of jam and mustard and two very fancy boxes of sweetmeats. There was coin enough to stop at taverns and inns along the way, should she care to do so and they would wait to hear the Witch's suggestions so Dem could continue in haste and safety where ever the Witch of the New Forest sent her to find her true love. Dem was embraced and kissed by Caroline and Dwight who both installed her in the carriage, wished her well and waved good bye. The raven sat with Dem for three miles and took his leave. Dem waved goodbye from the window of the carriage. The raven flew on, farther away, smaller and smaller until he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderous Stories, Yes 1977
> 
> I awoke this morning  
> Love laid me down by a river.  
> Drifting I turned on upstream  
> Bound for my forgiver.  
> In the giving of my eyes to see your face.  
> Sound did silence me  
> Leaving no trace.  
> I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.  
> Beg to hear your wonderous stories.  
> He spoke of lands not far  
> Or lands they were in his mind.  
> Of fusion captured high  
> Where reason captured his time.  
> In no time at all he took me to the gate.  
> In haste I quickly checked the time.  
> If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.  
> Had to hear your wonderous stories.  
> Hearing  
> Hearing  
> Hearing your wonderous stories.  
> Hearing your wonderous stories.  
> It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.  
> Imagine everything  
> You're close  
> And were you there to stand  
> So cautiously at first and then so high.  
> As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.  
> I bid it to return  
> To hear your wonderous stories.  
> Return to hear your wonderous stories.  
> Hearing,  
> Hearing,  
> Hearing,  
> Hearing,  
> Hearing,


	35. Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bandits

They made good progress. The coachman was certain that they would reach the New Forest in three more days. Finding the witch would not take long for she was watchful and knew when guests or intruders approached. Dem sat in her carriage, watching the landscape go by. She felt she must still be in England but it was a strange sort of England... The bees and flies occasionally sang songs and conversed amongst themselves rather than hum or buzz. The birds spoke amongst themselves and she could hear them when others could not. She supposed Meggy's cherries had done this to her even as her body rejected them. Dem wondered if this would continue. It would be very confusing to hear every bird in the woods talk at once... Demelza thought of her childhood very often as the trip went on, as the landscape whooshed by. Every day of her life from the age of five was spent in Ross' company. Every day, rain or shine she played with Ross, she laughed and shared her life with Ross. When they were small she napped beside him. She slept by him on Fridays in an entirely different way... or was it? Was there any point in the time since she spied him, crying, in Prudie's potted garden that she did not love him? Hadn't she loved him from the first? When he hugged her and clung to her and sighed, sighed from the comfort of her arms? Her dear, dear Ross... The sun was going down. The footmen, outriders who rode on a ledge on the back of the carriage, lit the lamps that shone like the sun for the crystal lanterns magnified the light. The coachman tended the horse and they pitched their tent for the night. Dem shared very pleasant meals with her retinue. They sat in the tent lit with a fifth crystal lamp, hung on a metal stake planted in the ground. They sat on fine carpets that the footmen unrolled each evening and had very delicious sandwiches from the provision box. The streams nearby provided water that no one here feared drinking. Dem was hesitant but came to learn not to fret over it since the others did not. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do...' Mrs. Kemp used to say... They shared sweets from the boxes provided and Dem bid the coachman and footmen good night. Dem slept on the soft velvet seat of the carriage while the men slept in the tent. Morning came and the footmen, who were quite clever, baked pancakes on a flat griddle they brought for this purpose. Even the horse ate a pancake in the morning and looked happy to greet the day for having it. Dem listened carefully, but the horse did not talk. A strange sort of England... A day closer to their goal. The coachman suggested pressing on through the night rather than stopping. It was agreed to and Dem watched the surroundings darken, not only because it was night but they had entered a wooded area that would soon turn into the New Forest, proper.

The scout just about fell out of the tree he watched from, in his haste to rally the others. He ran to camp and called to Mother Teague, the Bandit Queen. "Mother Teague! Ma'am! Picking's fer all! pickings fer all! It be gold! Gold from top t'bottom!" Mother Teague, the Bandit Queen scratched her head under her, very grand wig, stolen from some such lady in waiting, as she ate a rabbit leg with her other hand. The rest of the gang looked up from their food much like dogs lifting their heads abruptly in interest. "Wha ee creenin' on?! Wha be gold?!" The scout, an older man, crowed in delight, "A rare fine carriage! Ee'd not see its like afore! Gold! Made o gold! An' lamps on every side! Damn near shinnin' like diamonds! Be a princess an' no mistake!" Mother Teague and the bandits grew excited. Mother Teague hadn't had a child to eat in months. She tossed the rabbit leg over her shoulder and unsheathed her cutlass. "'Ear tha boys?! We gotta prize t'end all a comin'!" They all cheered and wiped their greasy fingers to prepare their weapons. "'Ow many be looking' t'perish?" Asked one. The scout laughed. "Naught but two outriders an' the driver! The pigeon inside be a red head! Mother Teague shrieked a blood curdling laugh. "Saints be praised! I ain't had a red head in this many a year! They got a fine flavor!"  
The bandits ran about in an excited frenzy of activity, sharpening knives, adjusting boots and belts and feeling good. They had not taken rich pickings for a long while and Mother Teague was always more generous with spoils when she had a child to eat. The gang rarely partook in her cannibalism, a taste of a thumb or a slice of leg out of politeness -it did taste like chicken, if you didn't think to hard about it- but she was always in a better mood. She had jerky to snack on, for weeks after, and it never failed to boost her mood. They melted into the forest. They were old hands at banditry. The carriage travelled on with the lamps shining bright and the horse at an easy trot. "Easy lads," hissed Mother Teague. "Outriders first an' take down the driver. I's lookin' t'be baggin' the maid meself! I got salt an' pepper fer 'er! Might even put an apple in 'er mouth!" They all snickered the way horrible bandits do when amused. The job was easy for the coach lights gave light that rivaled the light of day.

Dem grew sleepy and curled on the seat to rest as she felt the carriage jolt back and forth and one of the footmen yell, "Protect the...!" The carriage rocked back and forth. There was the shriek of men, cut mid breath. There were footsteps, someone walking over top of her, walking on the roof. Dem sat up, to look out the window, in time to come face to face with the point of a vicious looking cutlass. Dem gasped and stared at the blade cross eyed for the point was directly in front of her nose. A face appeared. A middle aged woman in the rough, sturdy clothes of a working man -green breeches and a beige shirt with a red kerchief tied at her neck and an extravagant, bedraggled, white wig that had a miniature tall ship set in it as a decoration. "Stand and deliver!" cried Mother Teague, the Bandit Queen. "A princess to be sure, raised on nut kernels an' cakes, or I'm a dunce! You's gonna be fine eatin'!" Dem shook with fear as the blade was removed and the Bandit Queen moved to open the carriage door. Suddenly, the woman screamed in pain. A young girl, had leapt upon her back and bitten her ear. Dem sat half in the carriage, half out as she watched the woman jumping about in pain as the girl clung to her back and the laughter of the other bandits could be heard. "See how she dances with her little'un!" They laughed. Dem felt the carriage lean hard to the left for they managed to pry off one of the gold hubcaps on the front. The girl jumped off her victim and announced. "This girl shall play with me! You can eat her when I have tired of her!" She dragged Dem out of the carriage and bore her away in time for Dem to see the handiwork of the gang. The coachman, the footmen and the horse all had their throats cut. The bandits had murdered them all. Demelza covered her mouth with both hands and started to shake and weep. She had never seen such cruel violence. "Oh be quiet!" yelled the girl. She wiggled a gigantic looking dagger at Dem and Dem froze in fear. It is said that one sees their life flash before their eyes when death is eminent. Dem, so frightened by the deaths of her retinue believed her own must surely follow. Dem swooned, briefly, but did not faint. In the split second of fear that froze Dem in her place, she saw her father look down lovingly, as if she lay in his arms as a newborn, she saw her mother smile upon her as if she was sitting on her lap. Dem saw Prudie tuck her in bed and kiss her goodnight, saw Jud handing her a baby chick. And she saw Ross, knelt on one knee in the woods, looking up at her with love and hope, hoping that she would agree to marry him. In an instant, Dem was returned to the present. The loud carousing of the bandits enjoying their success and the girl pushing her forward as she said. "I am Ruth! You are my playmate now! Walk on!" And Dem, menaced with the robber girl's dagger, did as she was told as the carnage of the attack upset her and the sinking feeling that her quest was ending before it began filled Demelza with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seconds, Human League 1981
> 
> All day  
> Hiding from the sun  
> Waiting for the golden one  
> Waiting for your fame  
> After the parade has gone  
> Outside was a happy place  
> Every face had a smile like the golden face  
> For a second  
> Your knuckles white as your fingers curl  
> The shot that was heard around the world  
> For a seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> Seconds  
> Seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> For a second  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> It took seconds  
> For a second  
> It took seconds of your time to take his life  
> Seconds of your time to take his life  
> For a second  
> For a second  
> For a second
> 
> Was there any point in the time since she spied him, crying, in Prudie's potted garden that she did not love him? Hadn't she loved him from the first? When he hugged her and clung to her and sighed, sighed from the comfort of her arms? Her dear, dear Ross... : The chapter, Diamond Day in Lovesong
> 
> Jud handing her a baby chick: The chapter, It's A Beautiful Morning in Lovesong


	36. Twenty Four Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New information

Dem, frightened by seeing her retinue murdered walked with the robber maiden in obediance. Ruth enjoyed poking Dem with the tip of her knife to make her nervous. "Come with me! You will be my playmate and part of my zoo!" Dem looked puzzled. "Your zoo?" Ruth smiled with pride. "Yes! Get in there and I'll show you!" Dem entered Ruth's room to see a sad menagerie of various forest creatures tied to poles, tied to posts and a beautiful reindeer, attached to the wall. He had a brass ring around his neck and milky looking eyes that denoted blindness. "You will sleep in my bed, there's no room in the cage now that Bae is there." "Bae?" asked Dem. "My reindeer. I make him dance but I will show you that later..." Ruth pulled a pigeon down from the prison roost and flung it at Dem. It flapped in distress as Dem caught the poor thing. "That is one of my birds! Kiss it!" Dem looked at the little bird. It was a bird but Dem could see the distress and anxiety in it's face. Dem stroked the bird's back, gently, and spoke in a quiet, reassuring way. "Do not fear, I will not hurt you..." The pigeon looked at her with the fatigue of captivity plain on her face. "We can only fear humans, we have never known one to be good. My Mama was shot by a gamesman and this girl is a poor hostess. We are hungry and tied to that perch night and day!" Dem looked sorry. "I am sorry to hear that. It seems I am also captive here. The bandits have killed my retinue and the girl says she will kill me if I displease her..." Dem said, sadly. Ruth knit her brows. "Stop chattering and kiss it!" Dem realized Ruth did not understand the bird's speech. Dem looked at the bird with sympathy and kissed its head. It cooed and snuggled near Dem's chin. Ruth looked on in consternation. "They don't do that when I kiss them! Give it back!" Dem looked at the pigeon sadly and handed her back to Ruth who strapped the bird back to the perch. "I will make Bae dance with my knife! It is a jolly thing to watch!" Ruth crossed the room to the reindeer and forced the point of her knife up and down his neck. The reindeer bucked and whined for it was chained to the wall and could not move. "Tickling him until he dances is jolly good fun!" said Ruth. Dem was horrified. The poor animal was shaking, involuntary, from the knife point scratching at him. "Oh! Oh no, stop! That is a horrible way to treat an animal!" said Dem. Ruth turned from the reindeer and pointed the knife at Dem. "Don't tell me what to do! I'll tickle you till you dance too! I'll stab you and then we'll see what 'horrible' is!" Dem's eyes widened and she backed against the wall. She was at a loss to know how to escape. If she got past Ruth there were still the other bandits to deal with and none of these people thought anything about killing. She looked at Ruth who laughed. "I like my knife! I like using it! If you displease me I'll kill you!" Dem gasped and then stared at Bae. Having recovered himself from Ruth's abuse, he said, "Sadistic hoyden! Let me get free of this damned thing and I'll stomp your face in!" Dem blinked in surprise. "You speak English?" The reindeer knit its brow. "I most certainly do not! You speak the tongue of beasts?" Dem looked puzzled. "No. At least I don't think so..." Ruth knit her brows. "What? What are you saying?" said Ruth. "Of course I speak English!" said Ruth, confused. The reindeer looked to an owl, or turned to face it's direction, the reindeer was blind. "Wise owl, is this girl speaking my tongue or am I speaking hers?" The owl said in a solemn tone. "This girl is speaking the tongue of beasts though she knows it not." The reindeer turned to Dem's direction. "You are," Dem interrupted. "Yes, I heard..." All the birds turned to look at her. "You speak the tongue of birds?" asked the owl in surprise. "I suppose I must, but you all sound like you're speaking English to me!" said Dem. The animals went silent in a way that disturbed Ruth. The pigeon piped up, "She spoke to me!" Ruth stared at the cooing pigeon and then stared at Dem. "What are you saying? Why should it not be English? Have I captured a madwoman?!" Dem felt that explaining her speech to the animals was probably not wise. "I suppose I am just nervous..." Ruth laughed "You should be! Come we will sleep now."

Ruth forced Dem, at knife point to the other side of the room. "Lay in my bed! And don't think you can sneak away! I have my knife and I shall use it if you try any tricks!" Dem lay down and Ruth put an arm around her to keep her from leaving. Dem looked at the animals across the room. Ruth was snoring and quite asleep but Dem did not think escape was possible. She would die here, in the bandit lair. Whether it be the robber girl, her mother or the gang, her life would end here and she would not find Ross or return home. Demelza started to cry. The animals felt sorry for Dem. She was as upset as many of the new captives often were on the first night. They sought to calm her. "Ruth is horrid, but she has not actually killed anyone with her knife!" said a little bat hanging upside down on the ceiling. Dem's eyes widened. "She seems very anxious to use it!" said Dem. A bird said, "It is sad to be in a zoo, but we will be friends, you will not be lonely, don't cry! Try to sleep." Dem looked sorrowful. "I am crying because I cannot continue my search to find my blood brother and bring him home..." The owl asked, "Is that what you were doing when they captured you?" Dem said, "Yes. He went sledding. He hitched himself to a white sledge and it took him out of the village..." A wood dove said, suddenly, "Did he have a blue scarf?" Dem sat up. "Yes! A knitted scarf!" Ruth felt Dem move and woke up. "Lay back down or I'll stab you" The wood dove said "Look on the floor, beneath us." Dem got up and looked at the floor. She gasped. "Get back here!" yelled Ruth, rubbing her eyes groggily. Dem did not heed her. Choked with bird droppings and bits of straw lay the rest of Ross' scarf that had been sliced by the sled runner. Dem had watched Prudie knit it and had arranged it around Ross' neck in affection more than once. "Stop scrabbling around in the dirt and get back here!" Dem started crying again. "Where did this come from?! Have you seen my blood brother?!" Two little wood doves said, "We have seen him! He was taken by the witch who killed our family! Ruth picked his scarf off the ground and wrapped us in it and brought us here! The witch froze our nest. We were underneath our mother. We two were the only ones to survive!" The owl looked at them both, sharply. "The Snow Queen killed your family?" Ruth bellowed "You better stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!" But Dem was not listening. 'The Snow Queen...' said the owl. ' _How much trouble could a Snow Queen be? Let her cause trouble here! I'd put her on the stove and she'd melt_... ' _She's as like t'freeze a human fer spite as make them snowflakes light up_...' Dem screamed in despair. "Has the Snow Queen frozen Ross!" Ruth looked baffled. "What are you saying?" One of the wood doves said, "She took him away in the sky." Dem started to sob. The owl said. "Take heart, maiden. If she bore him away perhaps he is in her palace!" Ruth stood on her bed, crossly. "Get back here and stop crying! You are a wretched playfellow! I should have let mother eat you!"

Dem still kneeling over the piece of Ross' filth encrusted scarf, crying from the horror and panic at the idea that Ross had been taken away by the Snow Queen, sat up and took her knife out of her sweets pocket. She opened it, stood and turned to brandish it at the robber girl, still standing on her bed. "Release me! I must find my blood brother!" yelled Dem. Ruth looked at Dem and looked at her knife and started to laugh. A merry chuckle that became an all body, shrieking howl of a laugh. The robber girl struggled to speak, she was laughing so hard. Ruth jumped up and down on her bed in glee. "Look at your puny knife! Ha ha! Look at that toothpick! Ha ha ha ha!" Ruth passed her own dagger from hand to hand in a flashy display of her comfort with the weapon. Dem stood with her jaw set, glowering at her captor. Ruth crowed, "You are a foolish girl! My knife's bigger!" Dem charged at Ruth, stomped forward onto the bed and smacked Ruth's dagger out of her hand with a quick swipe of the back of her hand. It clattered to the floor and the animals all gasped in surprise. Ruth took a sharp breath as Dem pushed her down on her back with her left hand and pressed her there with her knee. She knelt over Ruth, pressing her into the bed, knee in her chest, left hand bracing against the bed, right arm, high over head, poised to strike with the pocket knife in her fist. Ruth could see light glint on the edge of the blade. Large or small, a knife was a knife. Dem looked down upon her with the contempt of an avenging angel, hair askew, eyes wide, a grimace that brooked no nonsense.

"MY KNIFE'S BOLDER! I TOOK A BLOOD OATH WITH THIS KNIFE AND I WILL STAB YOU, SO HELP ME GOD! RELEASE ME! I HAVE TO FIND ROSS!"

Ruth stared up at Dem in terror. "Who is Ross?!" Dem's face became a tearful crumple. She relaxed her position of attack, sat back on her knees and, tearfully, told the robber girl about Ross and that the birds told her the Snow Queen had taken him away. "You can talk to the animals?!" asked Ruth as she, warily, sat up. Dem nodded 'yes'. "But how can you get him back? Why should a common girl have rights over a queen?" Dem wept. "Ross is my blood brother! Ross is my friend and true love! Ross is my betrothed! Ross is my family! Why should a queen have rights over him or me! I have his teeth!" Ruth sat bolt upright. "What?! What do you mean, 'his teeth'?!" Dem looked at her sadly, blinked and sniffed as she put her hand down the neck of her dress and pulled forward the ribbon that held Ross' milk teeth. Ruth gasped aloud. The girl wore a ribbon with at least twenty little teeth sewn on it. Granny Teague told Ruth, more than once, that only the bravest of the elementals, the Northern warriors, the boldest who had the gods and spirits with them, went into battle wearing strings of human teeth. The grown ups thought they had a princess. Mother thought she had a fine specimen for dinner. Ruth thought she had a new denizen of her zoo. They were all wrong. This girl was a warrior. Ruth looked at the ribbon in awe. "You must go to Granny!" "Granny?" asked Dem. Ruth nodded her head slowly. "You must go to Granny Teague! She will help you find your blood brother..." said Ruth in awed voice. "Who is Granny Teague!?" asked Dem. Ruth looked at Dem in seriousness.

"The Witch of the New Forest." said the robber girl.

Ruth warned that they must wait an extra hour, to make certain the gang were fast asleep. "They ate your carriage horse so they are stuffed to the gills and will sleep soundly." said Ruth. Dem felt sad for the gentle horse who liked pancakes. The big wide world was a much harsher place than the village. Ruth, through Dem's translation, asked if Bae could take Dem to the Witch of the New Forest. "Yes! Though I am blind, my sense of smell is exceptional!" Bae was confident he could bring Dem through the forest correctly but Ruth insisted a blind reindeer and a girl who did not know the area was recipe for disaster. In the end, it was agreed that the wise owl would accompany them to be certain they arrived safely. "I shall miss your dancing, for it amused me greatly, but I release you to freedom once you have brought this girl to Granny Teague." The reindeer agreed and declined to stomp Ruth's face in. The owl would return so Ruth would know all went well. Dem climbed upon the reindeer's back and the owl rode in front of her. Dem thanked the robber girl for she was grateful to be able to resume her search for Ross. Ruth frowned. Dem's eyes were, again, filling with tears. "Your eyes leak like a tap not turned off right!" complained Ruth. "Don't cry! You are crying just when you should be feeling happy!" Ruth pulled her hand into the sleeve of her shift and wiped Dem's eyes dry with it like a handkerchief. Dem nodded her thanks. They clasped hands like warriors, hand to wrist, and parted like gladiators who found each other equally matched in strength. "Good luck!" said the robber girl. "I hope you find your blood brother. I hope he's worth all the running around you've done!" With that Dem, the wise owl and the reindeer travelled into the night.

"It will not take long to reach the witch's lair." said the owl.

"Are you alright, Bae? We are not too heavy for you?" asked Dem.

The reindeer laughed. "You are light as eiderdown, ma feé, but 'Bae' is not my name. That is the name that wretched girl gave me."

"Oh!" said Dem. "I beg your pardon. What is your name?"

"My name is Hugh." said the reindeer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty Four Hours, Joy Division 1980
> 
> So this is permanent, love's shattered pride.  
> What once was innocence, turned on its side.  
> A cloud hangs over me, marks every move,  
> Deep in the memory, of what once was love.  
> Oh how I realized how I wanted time,  
> Put into perspective, tried so hard to find,  
> Just for one moment, thought I'd found my way.  
> Destiny unfolded, I watched it slip away.  
> Excessive flash points, beyond all reach,  
> Solitary demands for all I'd like to keep.  
> Let's take a ride out, see what we can find,  
> A valueless collection of hopes and past desires.  
> I never realized the lengths I'd have to go,  
> All the darkest corners of a sense I didn't know.  
> Just for one moment, I heard somebody call,  
> Looked beyond the day in hand, there's nothing there at all.  
> Now that I've realized how it's all gone wrong,  
> Gotta find some therapy, this treatment takes too long.  
> Deep in the heart of where sympathy held sway,  
> Gotta find my destiny, before it gets too late.
> 
> hoyden: ill-bred, tomboy  
> eiderdown: duck feathers  
> ma feé: my fairy


	37. Ain't No Mountain High Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venture Once More

Hugh was as good as his word. Hugh was blind but his sense of navigation was strong and the wise owl did not have to give much direction. Dem was reminded of the wooden rocking horse that she and Ross would take turns riding when they were small and supper on Saturday was being prepared. A smiling Jud would help them both on and off the toy as he chatted with Prudie and tended the meal. Later, as they grew they could mount the wooden horse themselves. Then, of course, they both grew too big to ride it anymore. Riding Hugh, keeping her balance, struck her very much like playing on Ross' rocking horse. Ross promised she would have her own set of breeches when she learned to ride a horse... "Ma feé? Don't lose hope. The Witch is very powerful!" Dem sniffed. Hugh was blind but knew she was starting to cry. Hugh said, gently. "My sense of smell is finely attuned..." by way of explanation. The owl concured. "The Witch of the New Forest is not like her wayward daughter and granddaughter. She will help you. You have a right to your blood brother's return or you wouldn't be here!" "Here?" asked Dem, now even more convinced that "this" England was peculiar. The owl actually turned, bodily, to face her on Hugh's back. "You have been allowed to enter the Otherworld, that proves you have a true claim!" Dem, perplexed, looked into the large golden eyes of the wise owl. They widened that much more. The owl could see that Dem was not understanding the situation. "Do you not know..." Hugh interjected. "Perhaps we shall leave these issues for the Witch to explain..." Dem felt they both knew something about her situation that she did not. Dem felt, from Hugh's tone of voice and the owl's sudden silence, it was something of importance. The owl turned forward once more. "The reindeer speaks true. The Witch shall guide you..."

The trees became closer to together. It became so dark Dem could not see. This did not bother the owl who had superior night vision or Hugh who could not see in any case. She could feel branches and plants brush against her. Soon a light could be seen in the distance. It wavered for she was riding on the reindeer and it was obscured by trees, winking and brightening as they approached. A series of windows glowing brightly. It was too dark to see the house properly. Hugh said. "We have reached your destination, ma feé. Will you accompany us, wise owl?" The owl nodded, a strange gesture as his neck was so wide. "I shall."

Dem poised her hand, about to knock on the door. The door swung open of it's own accord, light glowed brightly from the room and the quiet voice of an elderly woman said, "Come forward." Dem entered, followed by Hugh, the wise owl still seated on his back. "Good evening, Demelza." Dem looked to an old woman seated at a round table covered with a purple cloth so dark it was nearly black. She wore all black. A black mob cap with fine lace to rival that of a vain merchant's wife, a black gown that was made of a fine fabric, riven with crinkles and ruching. It spilled from her seat in both directions like a waterfall. Her eyes were much like Miss Meggy's in that light seemed to emanate from them. A crystal ball and a pack of cards lay on the table. The witch had the faint look of her granddaughter, the robber girl, in her face and Dem wondered how it was that the daughter and Ruth were so murderous and wild. "One's children must make their own way..." said the witch. "Do you want these animals to remain? We must speak freely." Dem nodded. "Please, there is nothing to be said that they cannot hear, they are my friends." The witch nodded. "Ross Vennor Poldark is your intended?" Dem's lip trembled. "Yes, Ma'am," The witch was imposing, not only because she wore a black gown but her kinswomen had been responsible for the deaths of the retinue and the coach horse. Dem had no choice but to trust her for Meggy Dawes sent her for her aid and Caroline spoke highly of her, even if she had not run afoul of Mother Teague and her bandit gang.

"What is a bell that does not ring, yet, its knell makes the angels sing?" asked the Witch of the New Forest.

Dem knit her brow. "What do you mean?" The owl said, "You must answer the riddle." Dem thought about it... a bell that does not ring... Dem closed her eyes. She was suddenly back in the gents' parlor, the night before Ross disappeared. Jud telling stories... She had been embroidering bluebells... When they were little and walking in the woods, Jud told Ross and Dem if you heard the bluebells chime in the forest it foretold your death... "Bluebells?" said Dem, uncertain. "Why?" asked the witch. "If you hear them toll, your life..." Dem burst into tears. "Is Ross dead?!" There was a terrible silence. The witch looked at Dem, who was beginning to crack. The innocent hope that she could find Ross and bring him home was starting to falter in Dem. The Witch of the New Forest then looked into Dem, not at her, for the answer depended on what she saw inside Demelza. "You say he is your blood brother?" Dem lay her left palm facing up on the table. "Yes, we took our oaths and bound our friendship in, sniff, blood." The Witch smiled, but it was not maternal. "That makes things easier for you are your father's daughter..." Dem did not understand. She waited for an explanation that did not come. She looked to Hugh and the wise owl. Hugh walked to stand by her, the owl still on his back, to support the girl. They knew the witch would help but Dem did not. Dem was unsure and the reindeer and owl sought to support her. They stood by her as the witch lay the pack of cards in front of Dem. Take a card. Dem moved to use her right hand and thought better of it. It was the left hand that bore the scar of her oath with Ross and she lifted the card with it instead. This must have been the correct thing to do for the witch's smile became more sympathetic. "Turn it over." said the Witch of the New Forest. On the dark purple cloth lay a card with a young woman standing with a lion. The girl was draped in a garland of flowers and seemed to embrace the lion and the mighty beast was content that it be so. The girl in the picture looked superficially enough like Demelza it made Dem take an astonished breath. "Oh, Ross..." she whispered. The witch's eyes narrowed. "What is it? What does this card mean?" Dem fought against more tears as she said, "Ross often called me his Lionheart..." Dem bent her neck, looked down to her lap, she keened a low, mournful moan, close to despair. She looked up beseechingly. Dem looked to the witch, pleading with her eyes. "We need him! We need Ross back!" The witch looked at her as the reindeer and owl drew nearer. "We?" asked the witch. Dem looked up tearfully and nodded, earnestly. "Jud and Prudie and me... We need Ross back! We are four. Four people together. We have been four together since the day I met Ross. Prudie loves Ross and I love Jud. Jud raised Ross like a father would, he is heartbroken! Prudie has cared for us like a mother would, I know Ross loves her dearly and she loves him... She is heartbroken! Ross has been given so much sadness! When I first met him, he was crying!" Dem, unthinkingly, wiped her eyes with her fist. "He has gone through so much sadness! Just when we were prepared to be happy he was taken from us! The birds said the Snow Queen took him away! We need him back! Ross is ours! She took away what she had no right to take!" Dem covered her face in her hands.

"PLEASE! PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND ROSS! MISS MEGGY AND CAROLINE SAID YOU CAN HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME FIND ROSS AND BRING HIM HOME!"

The witch stood. Hugh stepped back to give her room for she knelt by Dem and placed a boney, wrinkled finger upon the tarot card in front of Dem. "Take heart, child. Look upon the card." Dem sniffed and looked at the card. The witch spoke quietly, much like Mrs. Kemp, when she was explaining a lesson. "This card symbolizes 'Fortitude', 'Strength'. You are strong and have the right of your blood brother's return. You have claimed him by blood." Dem pressed her lips together. The witch stood. "The Snow Queen has imprisoned your blood brother in Lapland..." Dem gasped. "What? We are in England, are we not?" Dem started to cry again. "How can I bring Ross back if he is in another country!?" Hugh, the wise owl and the witch seemed to communicate a thought between them. Hugh spoke. "You are the Witch of the New Forest! You can give her power, can't you?" The witch shook her head 'no'. "I cannot give this child any more power than she already has, but I can send her to Lapland..." Dem looked at her sharply. The witch nodded. "I will send you to Lapland, but you must still journey to the Snow Queen's palace. You may ask the hill witch there which way to go." Dem sat up straighter. "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" Hugh was still ill at ease. "Will you not aid her with some magic or potion to help her?" The witch frowned. "She needs it not..." Hugh gave a snort that was more of an animalistic sound than Dem had heard from him in their short acquaintance. "Must she go alone?!" asked Hugh, appalled that Dem would be by herself with no aiding magic. The witch looked at Hugh. "Demelza," Dem looked at all three of them. "Yes, Ma'am?" "Do you wish for this reindeer to accompany you on your journey. Dem looked at Hugh and his gentle, milky white eyes. "Yes, Ma'am." "Then so shall it be." Hugh whispered, "I shall carry you, you will cover ground more quickly that way..." The Witch of the New Forest nodded. "That is wise, the terrain is punishing..." said the witch. The wise owl bid his leave. He stood on the table in front of Dem. "Take heart, my child. You are just and the Snow Queen is not. You have the right to claim back your kin." Dem nodded. "Thank you." Hugh turned to the owl. "Well met, friend. I am bound for Lapland." The owl nodded, though Hugh could not see it. "Farewell, gentle stag. You deserve your freedom in the realm of the reindeer and the Northern lands." With that, the owl flew out the window, back to the bandit's lair.

The owl returned to find that Ruth had freed all the animals, so moved by Dem's quest to liberate her blood brother, the stirring and just quest of a warrior wearing teeth into battle. Ruth could not take enjoyment in her zoo after considering how much Dem wanted her blood brother back. "You are free to go, owl. I beg your pardon." said Ruth. The owl nodded. "What will you do now?" asked the wise owl. Ruth sat on her bed, working slowly with a needle and thread, concentrating on stitching on a straight line. She spoke to the owl and only realized, afterwards, that she understood and had speech with the owl. Ruth had no ability to speak with birds or beasts before or since. She wanted a sweets pocket like she saw Dem wear. "I shall quit the gang and be my own mistress! I shall be a highway man and have adventures! I will meet the world on my own terms. Mother can lord over her gang of she wants to..." Ruth drew the thread through the fabric. "I shall go my own way..."

Hugh stood still and Demelza sat upon his back. The witch herself tied Dem's cloak tighter, for Lapland was a very cold land of ice and snow. The Witch of the New Forest placed a hand over Dem's head. "Go forth, child, flame child. Retrieve your blood brother." She stepped back and, with that, Hugh reared on his hind legs and took a running leap into the witch's hearth. Hugh and Demelza ran, headlong into the witch's fireplace and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell 1967
> 
> Listen baby, ain't no mountain high  
> Ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough baby  
> If you need me call me no matter where you are  
> No matter how far don't worry baby  
> Just call my name I'll be there in a hurry  
> You don't have to worry  
> 'Cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough  
> Ain't no valley low enough  
> Ain't no river wide enough  
> To keep me from getting to you babe  
> Remember the day I set you free  
> I told you you could always count on me darling  
> From that day on, I made a vow  
> I'll be there when you want me  
> Some way, some how  
> 'Cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough  
> Ain't no valley low enough  
> Ain't no river wide enough  
> To keep me from getting to you babe  
> Oh no darling  
> No wind, no rain  
> Or winters cold can stop me baby, na na baby  
> 'Cause you are my goal  
> If you're ever in trouble  
> I'll be there on the double  
> Just send for me, oh baby, ha  
> My love is alive  
> Way down in my heart  
> Although we are miles apart  
> If you ever need a helping hand  
> I'll be there on the double  
> Just as fast as I can  
> Don't you know that there  
> Ain't no mountain high enough  
> Ain't no valley low enough  
> Ain't no river wide enough  
> To keep me from getting to you babe  
> Don'tcha know that there  
> Ain't no mountain high enough  
> Ain't no valley low enough  
> Ain't no river wide enough  
> Ain't mountain high enough  
> Ain't no valley low enough
> 
> Venture Once More was the American title for Jeremy Poldark in its original, 1950s, American printing. The titles for the first four books were restored to American books when the first Poldark TV series aired in 1975.
> 
> "What is a bell that does not ring,  
> Yet, its knell makes the angels sing?"  
> This riddle was lifted wholesale from the Ridley Scott motion picture, Legend, 1985


	38. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood brother

The sudden change between intense heat and then cold. A brittle, frigid cold that felt like a slap. Dem clung to Hugh's neck as he plunged forward, into the fireplace. She scrunched her eyes shut. She was half convinced they would set on fire but the hearth's heat disappeared almost at once. Demelza and Hugh raced forward into deep snow. Onward, for there was a hut in the distance. As they got closer, they could see lights inside. The snow was swirling to such a degree around them it could barely be seen from afar. Hugh pressed on, then came to a stop by the hut. Dem slid off his back to pound on the door with her fist, squinting in the snow flying about, keeping a hand on Hugh's neck. The door opened. A small, dark haired woman in a plain, brown tunic, a long dress with long sleeves that went down to her feet, beckoned them both in. She was older and had very kind, brown eyes that did not glow like other witches Dem had met. The relief of shelter. A modest, homespun home. Sturdy wooden furniture, a box bed in the corner, herbs and clumps of strange looking dried things were in glass jars on a ledge over the fireplace. The hill witch set about putting thick woven blankets over Hugh's back and around Dem's shoulders. "You have travelled far?" asked the hill witch. "Yes, Ma'am," said Dem, teeth chattering. "We m-must tr-tr-tra-avel further still, for the Snow Queen has taken my b-bl-blood brother..." The hill witch nodded. "Her castle is two days walk away." Hugh asked, "For man or beast?" The hill witch clucked her tongue. "It is much the same, two legs or four. The land is harsh and so is the weather." Hugh said to Dem, "It is no matter, we shall journey to the Snow Queen's castle, come what may!"

Given the correct direction by the hill witch, Hugh and Dem made their way to the Snow Queen's castle. The winds were strong but Hugh fought through them and Dem clung to his neck with both arms to stay on his back. The reindeer was committed to get to the castle without stopping, for there was no shelter to be had out in the snow, the land was flat and endless and stopping might mean freezing to death. The lights overhead were constant for the Northern Lights flashed in bright streaks that undulated and trailed color across the sky even as the snow continued. By the second day, both Dem and Hugh were encased in a coating of snow that was brittle and sharp in its texture. Dem closed her eyes, held tight to Hugh's neck and thought of her family. She was cold and afraid but she wanted to reunite her family and bring Ross home. Keeping her goal front of mind helped her as the wind and snow raged on. She could not look forward for the snow was too vicious but Hugh cried out, "Ma feé! Take heart! We are almost there!" Though Dem could not see it, Hugh in his blindness could feel a shift of the wind. There was a structure ahead. That he could sense these things physically was important. Two days of running non-stop after his captivity had weakened him to the point he was losing his sense of smell. Dem struggled to shield her eyes with her hand and saw a tall palace. It had gleaming towers of ice, glossy and dazzling, like a castle of glass spikes. "Hugh! Oh, Hugh! Thank you, friend!" She said as the wind captured her speech. Hugh could feel her words as she lay on his back and was grateful to have brought her to her destination. He set aside the problem of trying to get back two days walk to the hill witch. They would have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Hugh entered a gate that, finally, gave protection from the elements. Dem fell off his back, onto the ground. She was so stiff and achy from hanging on to Hugh for dear life in the storm, Dem struggled to command her own limbs. She sat up and looked around. The soaring spires and imposing walls were made of ice and remained cold even as they were out of the elements. She turned to Hugh who said, panting, quietly, "Courage, ma feé, your friend is near. I cannot go further but I shall..." A howling was heard. Dem shrieked to see a pack of two headed dogs and strange looking animals that looked like a bear and a porcupine fused together. All were bone white and snarling. All were bearing down on them from inside the castle. "What are they, ma feé?! I cannot smell!" Dem pressed herself up against Hugh in fear. "They are attack animals! Made of ice! They are coming this way!" The bared down upon them with snarling teeth and frilled collars around their necks that resembled snowflakes.

"SING!" shouted Hugh.

"Sing?!" asked Dem, incredulous.

"Yes!" cried Hugh, "Music calms the savage beast! Sing! Walk forward and liberate your kinsman!"

Dem stood, shaking from cold, shaking from fear. The wild ice beasts were coming nearer.

I d'pluck a fair rose for my love

I d'pluck a red rose blowin'

Love's in my heart, a-tryin' so to prove

Wi' your heart mating

She walked forward and sang. Dem tried to be brave for she was scared, for herself and for Hugh who was too weak to defend himself.

I d'pluck a finger on a thorn

I d'pluck a finger bleedin'

Red is my heart, a-wounded and forlorn

And your heart needing

Hugh could not see or smell. He could not sense that a ghostly form came to sit by him. A dark haired woman in a mantua gown, lilac purple with a flowered, apple green contrast at the skirt. She wore a peacock feather in her hair and a baroque, drop pearl from a black ribbon around her neck. She sat, back erect, sentry like, next to the reindeer.

I d' hold a finger to my tongue

I d' hold a finger waitin'

My heart is sore, until it joins in song

Wi' your heart mating

The animals went silent. The put their snouts upon the ground and began to whine as they melted into puddles of water as Dem walked past them to enter the throne room. Dem looked at them melting in fascination as she passed. She walked forward, not seeing the ghostly form of a red haired woman in the peasant clothes of an earlier time walking behind her in guardianship of her charge.

The attack beasts had melted and Dem entered the throne room.

Sparkling, dagger sharp icicles shot at Demelza, like darts. But they bounced away, did not harm her. They broke upon the floor. She looked ahead to see Ross laying at the base of the Snow Queen's throne. She did not look behind, to see a ghostly, dark haired man in a purple suit and embroidered waistcoat walking behind her, showers of ice bouncing away from them both as if a dome protected them. "Ross!" She cried and ran forward to the dais. Ross was curled in a fetal ball. Looking but not seeing. A bluish, pale cast to his skin. There was a gash, a deep scar, by his eye. Dem began to cry. Ross did not see or react, even though his eyes were open. He lay by his mistress' throne, a cold, wan shadow of his former self. "Ross! Oh, my Ross, my Ross!" Dem ran forward and looked at her dearest friend, unresponsive. She crouched next to him, stared into his face...

'Snowflakes are perfect and have no fault...' thought Ross.

'They sparkle like diamonds... Or... Or...'

"You can have my penny, Dem! I don't mind!"

"I'll eat mine at noon..."

'Snowflakes look like... Like... Sugar... Sugar on a bun...'

Dem gathered Ross up in her arms, frightened because she could feel how cold Ross was and she could feel no pulse, no heartbeat. It was as if he was frozen and his heart was a lump of deadened ice.

"ROSS! MY LOVE! MY BLOOD BROTHER! COME BACK!" she cried.

Dem wrapped tighter around him and started to cry. Hot tears fell down her face and on to Ross' cold flesh. She could not feel his heartbeat. Her best friend, her blood brother, her lover and her betrothed was dead in her arms and she wept.

"COME BACK TO ME!" cried Dem.

Ross felt a dreadful pain. Heat. Heat trickling, like ants walking across his skin. Two, three, more. Hot tears falling down his face, his neck and trailing like fire over his cold skin. Dem could feel Ross struggling in her arms. "I'm here, oh my love! My Ross!" Ross felt as if everything was sliding sideways. His vision, the floor beneath him, heat, appalling heat, running down his neck. Dem's tears felt like fire and the slow concert of all of his blood lurching into movement, his veins beginning to pulse once more, the beat of his heart brought a broken sort of scream from lungs that struggled to remember their function. Ross made frightening noises. Demelza kept telling Ross he was safe but she was scared he might be dying in her arms. Dem still did not understand she was in the process of bringing Ross back from the dead. The Snow Queen looked in her scrying locket and her eyes went wide with shock. The girl! That girl! That red haired bitch was holding her pet in front of her throne! In an instant, Elizabeth appeared by her throne, determined to kill the usurper. But she stepped back in surprise. The scrying locket had not shown her a second intruder. Standing in front of her throne, behind the children, was a shade. A ghost. A sturdily built peasant, in workingman's clothes with a curly forelock of red hair spilling from a cloth cap. Between them Ross was seizing and shrieking in the girl's arms, culminating in a bellowing scream as life flowed into him once more. He bucked and looked faint in the girl's arms. Elizabeth looked at the ghost. The ghost tilted his chin a fraction. The gesture was obvious. 'At your peril...' the ghost might have said. The Snow Queen frowned. Ghost or no ghost she would kill both of them. She would be denied her pleasure but she would enjoy ending their love.

Ross opened his eyes, groggily. "Dem?" He sounded struck with wonder. "Oh Ross! My Ross!" Dem smiled and then Ross saw something very strange. The Snow Queen stood over them both and he gasped. Dem then looked up herself but she was not afraid. Demelza was very, very angry. Who wins at close range? Dem had Ross in her arms. The ghost of Dem's father stood near, though Dem knew it not. Elizabeth nashed her teeth at the children and her eyes started to glow. The ghost relaxed his body, a gesture that seemed threatening in its nonchalance. He widened his stance a fraction. Ross looked to the Snow Queen, his captor who made him recount all his traumas, and he curled closer to Dem like a frightened animal. Demelza, not looking away, still looking up at the Snow Queen in defiance, kissed Ross' brow and that drove Elizabeth into an intense anger. Ross looked to the Snow Queen, she jutted her hand forward, intending to freeze both of them to death. Ross looked to Dem. Dem looked up at Elizabeth and Ross could see Dem's eyes begin to glow. Ross stared in surprise. Dem held Ross in her arms and looked up at the Snow Queen with eyes that glowed orange. Ross gasped for Demelza's red eyelashes set on fire! Both sets of Dem's eyelashes burst into flames from left to right, across both eyes. Elizabeth only just saw this occur as she angrily put her hand on Dem's head. Queen Elizabeth, ruler of winter, half jinn, half giantess. Decendant of Lilith and supreme commander of the cold, screamed. A howling, shriek of defeat and searing pain. Dem rejected the idea that this horrible witch would bring Ross back under her control. Ross was afraid of the Snow Queen and held Dem tighter. The Snow Queen hurt her blood brother and he clung to her for protection. Dem embraced Ross and rubbed his back as Prudie often did for her when she was upset. This witch dragged Ross away, pulled him over the edge of the world. Dem followed. Dem followed her true love to the ends of the earth for he was her blood brother and dearest friend. She would protect her blood brother.

' _You are so warm and pretty, she would not harm you...'_

 _'What is a bell that does not ring but it's knell makes the angels sing_...'

' _Flame Child_...'

Dem held Ross and felt heat pour from them both. A heat so fierce and fast she did not even care that the Snow Queen lunged at her. Dem narrowed her eyes tilted her chin up a fraction. Elizabeth only just aware of the change in Demelza's face. Anger.

' _Melt_...' thought Demelza.

Her eyelashes were aflame. It shot up into her eyebrows, her hair. Dem and Ross were soon engulfed in flames and Elizabeth screamed as the ghost of Dem's father smiled and began to fade. As the ghost of Ross' father smiled and began to fade. As the ghost of Demelza's mother smiled and began to fade. As the ghost of Ross' mother lay a gentle hand on the reindeer's brow and smiled as she began to fade. Elizabeth took her self away to her summer palace at Spiztenberg. She felt pain. Her eyebrows were singed as was her gown. She dropped to her knees there and fumbled for her scrying locket with one hand burnt to disfigurement and one foot marred by Dem's fire as well. A glowing flame winking out slowly, revealing two young people in a palace of ice. Dem helped Ross up as they, slowly, returned to the reindeer. Elizabeth struggled to hold the locket still. She was shaking from pain and the shock of Dem's revenge. She watched as, piece by piece, her marvelous, Lapland palace began to fall apart.

Dem walked Ross out of the castle. Ross was unsteady on his feet and they took their time even as chunks of the ceiling were falling down and breaking with ice splaying in all directions as they struck the floor, small chunks hitting Dem's ankles as they broke apart. "Hugh! We must leave here! The castle is breaking!" Dem called out as she approached the reindeer. "You are victorious! Let us flee, I fear for this place," said Hugh. "The tremors in the floor foretell utter destruction!" They crossed through the gate and made their way, slowly to the land beyond. The winds had died down but the cold was still very dangerous. Hugh could sense that the wind would rise with another storm. Without the palace for shelter there was danger. The hill witch was two days walk and they were, all three, exhausted.

The destruction of the Snow Queen's castle was a terrible sight to behold as the Northern Lights flashed overhead and a cataclysm of implosion and bursts of breaking ice made a deafening noise. Ross looked at it with dull fascination. Now that the ice in his heart had thawed, he had no protection from the elements and began to feel the first effects of exposure. Dem shook his shoulder, alarmed. "Ross! Ross!" She stood before him and patted his face, gently, to revive him, but he remained in a daze. "I...I am cold... Dem..." he said. Ross was befuddled to be able to feel once more. Dem felt her nose run and it instantaneously freeze. The hill witch was at least two days walk. That would take even longer for Hugh was as weakened as she was. Had she saved Ross only to perish in the cold together? Hugh spoke thickly. They were freezing and exhausted. "Tell me, child, do you see the North Star?" Dem scanned the sky around them and saw a bright, fixed star. It burned bright as a beacon. "Yes, Hugh!" she chattered as her body shivered. She was afraid. She felt cold and had a cloak. Ross had nothing to protect him from the elements other than his ordinary clothes. "Ross!" said Hugh. Ross turned slowly. "Ross, lie on my back! We cannot make the journey to the hill witch but I will find you safety! Dem! Lead me toward the North Star! There is shelter there!" Ross struggled to climb on the reindeer's back. He draped over him like a wilting plant. Dem took off her cloak and laid it over Ross. Hugh felt the warmth of the cloak drape over both of them and said, tersely, "That is foolish, child! You will surely freeze! I can no longer smell and Ross cannot walk! You are the last of us!" Hugh feared for Dem, relinquishing her only warmth. If she succumbed to cold, all was lost. Dem took a deep breath. It hurt her lungs to do so. "I will lead you, Hugh..." She untied the sweets pocket and, with her fingers clumsy from cold, tied it around Hugh's neck. "Walk on, friend..." said Dem, leading the reindeer by holding the sweets pocket like a lead. The pocket knife inside helped her keep hold of it. "Do not argue, noble stag..." murmured Ross, sleeply. "Dem is as brave as a lion..."

They made slow progress and lost track of time. Dem walked forward, towards the North Star, as the wind blew about them and she ceased to feel her fingers and toes. Then, in the distance, light. "Hugh! There is light up ahead!" Dem could barely speak for her teeth chattering. "Yes! Have courage, ma feé! We will shelter at that homestead!"

It took forever but, in truth, was only a few minutes. They entered a gate of painted iron that glistened dark green and had serpentine vines and leaves swooping about it. A huge estate with many outbuildings here in the middle of nowhere. Dem walked Hugh and Ross to the pretty, whitewashed manse at the center of the path, all around them glittering with banks of snow. She had to try to reach for the door knocker three times. Her fingers were so numb and clumsy. The bright, brass knocker was shaped like a holly wreath and she banged it against its base with all her might as hard as she could. The wait was endless and then the door opened. Dem hurt. Every part of her body hurt. She felt numb and pain simultaneously. Her eyes hurt, widening as she watched the door open. She and Hugh felt warmth as the door opened and revealed a golden light. They were bathed in warm, golden lamplight from the inside of a cozy looking house. A merry log fire burned at the far end of the room. Warm, lovely looking stuffed chairs and soft rugs beckoned. It hurt to smell warm cakes and gingerbread waft from the room beyond. Her mouth hurt as it fell open, her teeth so cold, her cheeks so cold as she looked up at the man who opened the door and smiled so kindly. Dem strung her sweetheart's milk teeth around her neck, left her home, travelled miles in a river by boat, was imprisoned by a white witch, travelled countless miles on foot. She had the assistance of a coach and comfort until waylaid by murderous bandits. Fought a robber girl, fought the Snow Queen and liberated her friend with the help of a talking stag. Dem had seen peril and wonders in her quest, but it was only now that she fell into a dead faint when the owner of this house smiled upon her. Dem's eyes rolled up into her head and she fell back on the ground. Her fall cushioned by snow. Hugh fell forward on his knees, no longer able to stay upright. Ross was half off his back, tangled in Dem's cloak as Hugh, laboriously, raised his head towards the warmth he sensed in front of him and said,

"Father Christmas! Lord of Christmas! I ask for sanctuary and commend these two yearlings to your care and protection! This girl has liberated her dearest friend from the Snow Queen's imprisonment but we are too weak to journey home and I fear the boy is unwell!"

With that, Hugh went unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartbeat (Tainai Kaiki II) Ryuichi Sakamoto feat. David Sylvian 
> 
> I see the lines in the palm of its hand now  
> I listen hard but no words spring to mind  
> And it sounds so sweet, listen to its heartbeat  
> And I'm drowning in its sea  
> Falling at its feet  
> Listen to my heartbeat baby
> 
> And the blood sail leaves tonight  
> Fated in its blindness  
> And it won't be long before help is at hand  
> And the darkness sleeps  
> Cushioning the heartbeat  
> And I killed the captain, sank the fleet  
> To liberate the heartbeat baby  
> And it sounds so sweet  
> And it sounds so sweet  
> Listen to our hearts beat
> 
> And the darkness sleeps  
> Cushioning the heartbeat  
> And I'm drowning in its sea  
> Falling at its feet  
> Listen to my heartbeat baby
> 
> It speaks to ghosts and souls alike  
> Springs to life, and doesn't think twice  
> Wrapped in the blood sail  
> Bathed in snow  
> Nailed to the source and it won't let go  
> Fed on the bible, grown from trees  
> It opened the mind and the heart was free  
> A home in the silence, safe from sound  
> Where trouble sleeps and the light is found
> 
> It speaks to ghosts and souls alike  
> Springs to life, and doesn't think twice  
> Wrapped in the blood sail  
> Bathed in snow  
> Nailed to the source and it won't let go  
> Fed on the bible, grown from trees  
> It opened the mind and the heart was free  
> A home in the silence, safe from sound  
> Where trouble sleeps and the light is found
> 
> Listen to my heartbeat  
> Won't be long  
> (Tainai Kaiki II) Won't be long  
> (Tainai Kaiki II) Won't be long  
> (Tainai Kaiki II) Won't be long  
> (Tainai Kaiki II)
> 
> It speaks to ghosts and souls alike  
> Springs to life, and doesn't think twice  
> (Tainai Kaiki II)  
> Wrapped in the blood sail  
> Bathed in snow  
> Nailed to the source and it won't let go
> 
> Listen to my heartbeat  
> 'Cause it won't be long  
> Sounds so sweet  
> Listen to my heart.
> 
> ma feé: my fairy


	39. Israel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe harbor

"Jud?" Father Christmas squeezed Ross' hand and Ross relaxed. Having called out in his delirium, Father Christmas did not dissuade him. A moment's glamour. Ross groggily opened his eyes to see Jud, as always, sitting near, guarding his bedside. Ross closed his eyes, slept better for the feeling of safety in knowing Jud was with him. Nearby, Dem slept, recovering from the extremities of her adventures.

Outside a storm had blown up. Hugh's sense of navigation and quick thinking most likely saved their lives. The wind and snow howled punishingly across the cold terrain. But, inside the confines of this jolly homestead, within the little world made up of four walls and bright curtains and whispering voices, life was triumphant. Hugh was recovering in the stables with the other reindeer. Ross and Demelza were tucked up in bed and cossetted in warm blankets, tended by Mrs. Claus and the household staff of elves. Father Christmas had an extremely tight work schedule. He rarely had personal interaction with human children, for all he knew they were naughty or nice. He oversaw the workshop and all his days were filled with the tasks that made his December work run smoothly. The pitiful state of all three travelers, lying in a heap at his front door pulled at his heartstrings. They were all so removed from human contact in Lapland that the arrival of these orphans gave the entire estate the novelty of helping them to recover. It cheered them to do so because a change is as good as a rest.

Father Christmas looked from one to the other. The story, as Hugh in his convalesence was able to explain it, had many puzzling aspects. Two humans who were inbetween worlds. The Snow Queen had stolen the boy. If the boy was dead that made sense but both children were alive and the reindeer insisted that the girl entered the Otherword alive. Also the Snow Queen's enchantment should not have been enough for Ross to speak to and understand the reindeer. That was the only explanation that could make sense, but it was highly irregular. The girl, Dem, was even more baffling. She bent the rules of space and time, dissolved Meggy Dawes enchantment, spoke to animals freely and not only vanquished the Snow Queen but demolished her palace. It was a puzzle indeed.

Leaving them in the care of Mrs. Claus, Father Christmas went to the library. The hushed quiet of the library was a marked difference to the singing and merriment of other parts of the homestead and workshop. Father Christmas needed silence to ponder the lists. Ross at seventeen and Dem, sixteen, were not current subjects. Children aged out of the list at fifteen. He needed to consult the archives. He sat at a mahogany map table and the lights nearby brightened in response. The patter of the keeper's footsteps came near. She was an older elf with a silver pince nez and a spangled, loose robe, bright red with gold designs worked upon it. "Good morning, m'lord." She curtsied. "What do you require?" He nodded. "Good morning, Zhara. The archives today. Poldark, Lyon and Carne." A gentle sprinkle of gold dust fell to the table as three, very large, very old, leather bound books hovered over the table and opened to the correct pages. "Thank you..." Zhara curtsied once more and returned to her desk. Father Christmas began by looking up Dem's mother. The maternal line seemed plausible, but no. Demelza Lyon and Dem's aunt, Prudence were listed in the archives. He walked alongside the table to the book with Ross' listing.

Ross Vennor Poldark.

Father Christmas adjusted his spectacles. Ross had remained on the 'Nice' list all fifteen years. He consulted the notes.

"...occasional inattentiveness. Prone to daydreaming..."

"...orphaned, aged five..."

"...starcrossed..."

Father Christmas frowned. Ross, for whatever reason, had a staggering amount of misfortune in his young life. The Snow Queen's abduction was just the latest insult in a childhood marked by the loss of his parents, the decimation through illness of his ancestral estate, and a period of physical and sexual abuse. He moved to Dem's listing. Demelza also had an unblemished record. Good all fifteen years.

"...occasional fits of ill temper..."

There was an asterisk. "Fey(P)"

Father Christmas smiled. It was becoming clearer. Demelza Lyon was human. Tom Carne was not. He watched the pages of the book flip themselves in impatience.

Tom Carne

"...occasional fits of ill temper..."

"Fey(P)"

In irritation, Father Christmas raised a bit of gold dust and sneezed from it in his haste to find Tom Carne's father. Unlisted. If Dem's grandfather was not in the archives that meant that Tom Carne was half fey. Half fairy the way Father Christmas was half elf. Father Christmas considered things more and then began to laugh, "Ho, ho, ho!", until his belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. The fairies of the Aos Si were crafty and enjoyed jokes and riddles. It was right there in her name. "Carne" Her grandfather took human form and took a surname that meant the marker of a grave, an intentional pile of stones to denote a grave. Dem's grandfather was, most likely, a Sidhe. They lived underground, their portals to the human world were mounds of earth. Fairy mounds. Both Dem and her father were descendants of one of the strongest Fey communities in the Otherworld. Dem was a quarter fairy on her paternal line. That explained some things, but not others. Ross was entirely human. His speech and comprehension of the reindeer still made no sense. Father Christmas lifted a blown glass lid off a tall apothecary jar and pulled out a handful of ginger snaps. He paced about, eating them, as he considered this information. Demelza was a quarter fairy. That she could speak to animals and wield magic, intuitively, made sense. But Ross was human. He spoke to the stag and, more importantly, was pulled free of the Snow Queen's curse with no power of his own. That made no sense. Dem had Ross' milk teeth hung around her neck but that was an old wives tale. The teeth had no special magic. How did Dem break the enchantment to the point of destroying the Snow Queen's palace, untrained and with no ties to Ross at all? He munched on the last ginger snap and returned to his guests.

Mrs. Claus was reading a storybook aloud. Though they were both still unconscious, she felt it important that they hear the sort of tales they both enjoyed. A potent medicine. Father Christmas kissed her brow and sat at the edge of Ross' bed. She smiled. "I've puzzled them out..." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?! I've reviewed their listings. She's a quarter fey on her father's side..." She nodded. "Look at his left hand." Father Christmas stood and went around to Ross' side. He lifted his left hand, gently, and turned his palm, to examine it. "Ho, ho, ho..." He looked at Ross' palm and rubbed his thumb over a dark, smudgy mark. "Ho, ho, ho..." he chuckled as he went to Dem's bedside and examined her left palm. It was not dyed, but a corresponding mark was there. "Ho, ho, ho!" His belly shook in his humor. "Oh for pity's sake, Nicky!" scolded Mrs. Claus, "Hush, you'll wake them!" He scrunched his eyes and nodded. "Yes, they should not wake..." he whispered. "Ho, ho...what innocence!" he sighed, wistfully. Ross' human blood became mixed with Dem's fairy blood when they took their oath to become blood brothers. The Snow Queen had, inadvertently, enchanted a boy who had already been claimed by a fairy. Ross, who had been killed in the sledding accident, was brought into the Otherworld by the Snow Queen. But Dem's blood kept Ross suspended between his world and this one. Dem's fairy blood allowed Dem to enter herself and bring Ross back to life. By sacrificing her red shoes to the river and being part Fey, she was allowed entrance into the Otherworld to claim back her blood brother. Father Christmas and Mrs. Claus exchanged an amused look. 'You couldn't make this up...' they thought. Father Christmas stretched his arms and kissed Mrs. Claus once more. "I must see to the workshop." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "What will you do?" He sighed. That was not a light question. The reindeer begged protection for both of them, but Father Christmas had not suspected it would be literal. "There is nothing for it. They are too old. Even if she is part fairy, they cannot be allowed to stay or remember this place." She looked disapproving as he continued. "They are human after all... They will recover and be sent home." She averted her eyes. "Will you..." Father Christmas frowned as she looked at him once more in a judgemental manner. He looked at the sleeping youth, lying in bed with a scar on his face from the accident. Ross was starcrossed, his life was marked by misfortune beyond his control. In truth, Ross' life should have ended, would have ended, but for the fact that he had made a child's blood promise with Dem. He had been interfered with magically twice. By Dem, in innocence and by the Snow Queen with malice a forethought. That Demelza had the intuitive sense to pursue and reclaim Ross from death was, also, not within Ross' own control. Father Christmas had the right to intervene but it was not lightly done. She gave one final push. "His birthday is so near..." He nodded. Even Father Christmas had no power over Ross once he turned eighteen. He sighed. "...and any offspring will be fey on the maternal line..." he mused aloud. She smiled. Her husband had made his choice. He nodded. "Yes... Ross' ill luck must end. There will be danger on all sides if it does not..." She nodded, warmly. "It's the right thing to do, my dear." said Mrs. Claus. They did not reside in Lapland for no reason. Even a jolly old elf and his magical household might court disaster if suspicious and superstitious humans took it upon themselves to challenge their right to be. Ross and Dem could have a passel of children with the gift of second sight at the very least. Even at a quarter blood legacy, maternal fey blood could produce all manner of gifts in their children. Ross' blood was also tainted fey from their blood brother oath and Dem had no knowledge of her fairy lineage on top of it all. They could, all of them, be accused of witchcraft in the wrong political climate. Humans could be a nuisance sometimes but they can be dangerous if they got hold of bad ideas. "Yes." said Father Christmas. "I will see to it." Mrs. Claus smiled. She would finish the tale she was reading before supervising supper.

"They are very devoted friends..." she said.

"Yes..." said Father Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Israel, Siouxsie And The Banshees 1980
> 
> Little orphans in the snow  
> With nowhere to call a home  
> Start their singing, singing  
> Waiting through the summertime  
> To thaw your hearts in wintertime  
> That's why they're singing, singing  
> Waiting for a sign to turn blood into wine  
> The sweet taste in your mouth, turned bitter in its glass  
> Israel, in Israel  
> Israel, in Israel  
> Shattered fragments of the past  
> Meet in veins on the stained glass  
> Like the lifeline in your palm  
> Red and green reflects the scene  
> Of a long forgotten dream  
> There were princes and there were kings  
> Now hidden in disguise, cheap wrappings of lies  
> Keep your hearts alive with a song from inside  
> Even though we're all alone  
> We are never on our own when we're singing, singing  
> Home, home  
> There's a man who's looking in  
> And he smiles a toothless grin  
> Because he's singing, singing  
> See some people shine with glee  
> But their song is jealousy  
> Their hate is clanging, maddening  
> In Israel, will they sing Happy Noel  
> In Israel, in Israel  
> Israel, in Israel  
> In Israel, will they sing Happy Noel


	40. Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days of wonder

Dem's footsteps could be heard nearby and Ross, in boots, fawn colored breeches and a snowy white shirt, went from stack to stack, running among the imposing rows of leather bound tomes in Father Christmas' library, trying to see her, trying to catch her. Dem, in her boots and a dress of crimson velvet with her sweets pocket tied about her waist, could hear Ross laughing and it made her giggle. The sweeping, wide skirt of the dress gave her more freedom to run than her ordinary garments and she teased Ross by swooping the hem behind, trailing twinkling gold dust, around the corners of the bookcase stacks. Close and then hidden once more. What was hidden must be found. They ran through the library, so large it rivaled a forest, and played among Father Christmas' books. Occasionally, they would rush past Zhara at her desk and she would smile, indulgently. 'Isn't this why we are here?' thought the keeper of the archives, 'To bring joy to children...?' Ross cut off Dem's escape, at the end of a corridor, and pressed her against the stacks of books. Laughing, both laughing. Ross seizing Dem with the confident grasp of a lover, holding her close and laying his face near as they laughed. Dem turning in his arms to face him with a knowing smile. Laughing, Ross smiling into her eyes. A puff of gold dust by her ear as Dem lay her head against the books and Ross demanded a kiss as the victor. A playful nudge of their mouths, a teasing nip before falling forward, into the other. A soul kiss. Sweet and wonderful. Familiar yet always new. A sigh of contentment. They giggled, foreheads pressed together. Admiring each other before they kissed again. The love they shared was theirs again.  
Ross, Dem and Hugh all recovered their health. The fervent pitch and hum of the estate around them, the magic workshop as the date for Christmas Eve drew nearer, was a most wonderful place to be for two young people who kept the joys of childhood in their hearts, such as Ross and Dem. They were indulged to the point of being spoiled. The elves who work so tirelessly to bring happiness to human children were excited to have real children in the estate. So happy to see real humans enjoy themselves and be able to meet them. It was like a story in a book, come true, getting to meet real humans... Ross and Dem were allowed to watch the elves at their work and fed treats in Father Christmas' kitchens where candies were made and sweets were baked. Mrs. Claus took tea with them each afternoon, with Hugh, at the stables. The stables being well appointed, much like a proper house were warmed by ornate columns of tiled stoves, lining the walls at regular intervals and had polished wood floors. Hugh, had a small pan of nettle tea to sip from and various kinds of hay and grains from many different lands at a table laid with a glittering sliver service of cakes and small sandwiches. A pot of delicious tea never emptied, for the hospitality in this place sprung from the joy of Christmas where no child should fear or want. Ross and Dem's eyes shone from happiness. They were reunited and Father Christmas promised that they would be sent home before Christmas so they may reunite with Jud and Prudie and Ross would be home for his birthday, which fell some days after.  
They ate their supper with the elves. Long tables, spread with snow white cloth and a damask runner of hunter green, laid with tureens of soup and platters of bread, bowls of fruit and crystal pitchers of water, fresh and sweet from a glacier. Ross and Dem ate their fill, asking and answering questions. They learned about elves and told the elves what they wanted to know about humans. After the meal, music and singing filled the hall. The elves danced and clapped and shouted encouragement as Ross and Demelza danced to the music and gave as good as they got, keeping up with the elves merriment until bedtime. Father Christmas bid them good night, taking time from his busy schedule to wish them both goodnight in person, before they had their bath and slept in the heavenly soft beds in the nursery. Two beds with matching, carved wood frames of ornate design stood side by side with a wooden bedside table, painted white, in between. It held medicines and cups of drink in their convalescence and now bore a wreath of holly, festive and bright with red berries, around a lamp with a silver wrought cage around a glass chimney. There was a bathroom for each of them. They sank into a dreamy, hot bath, laced with fragrant perfumes. Then an elf would lay a towel and nightshirt for them and they would ready for bed. They entered the bedroom from their baths and fell upon each other, fell into a soft bed and made every night Friday. Ross and Dem spent their days as happy children and spent their nights as young lovers once more. The elves that tended the nursery mentioned slyly to Mrs. Claus that, very often, only one bed had been slept in.  
Mrs. Claus mentioned this tidbit of information to Father Christmas and they had a merry laugh over it. The time to send them back was drawing near. Father Christmas had to speak with them both before that happened. He resolved to offer Ross and Dem his protection. This was not a lightly done whim. The commitment was in perpetuity. The Poldarks would be under the protection of Father Christmas so Ross' strange and never ending run of misfortune would cease and he, his wife and family would live in peace. Ross' final gift from Father Christmas, before he turned eighteen. Ross had remained a good child his entire time in the list even as fate punished him at every turn. The loving care of Jud and his chance meeting of Dem, the friendship they shared and the love and guidance of Dem's aunt, Prudie had been a balm. The rash decision of Ross' to seal their friendship and become blood brothers had linked them in ways more serious than either child could have known. Dem, not knowing she was part fairy in her paternal line had claimed Ross through blood. They were fated to be together using magic she did not know she possessed. Father Christmas would insure that they would only bear ordinary trials and disappointments. The outsized tragedies that so marred Ross' life would end.  
Father Christmas still had work to complete in the run up to the holiday but he and Mrs. Claus conspired to give Ross and Dem a dispensation. The elves were advised to lay bridal nightshirts for their charges and arrange the nursery so the beds were fused as one. A small mercy that Father Christmas and Mrs. Claus were happy to allow in the protection of their magic realm.

Ross and Dem enjoyed their supper with the elves and were summoned to Father Christmas' study afterwards. He smiled in a warm manner and said. "We will speak tomorrow, after your breakfast," He looked from one to the other. "In the meantime, I bid you goodnight and tell you that you both are free to do as you chose in this, my realm. What happens here will not follow into your own world." This struck both Ross and Dem as cryptic, but they nodded. "Good night, Father Christmas." They said. They returned to their room which had not changed, two beds with a small table between them, and went to bathe. They each had their own bathroom and were attended by an elf who laid their bedclothes and bid them goodnight. Ross entered from his side and Dem entered from hers. They were given very beautiful, white nightshirts, covered in intricately embroidered flowers and vines. So dense they might have truly grown somewhere and been translated flower for flower in fine white threads. They admired each other in them and were then struck dumb by the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy, Tchaikovsky 1892


	41. Wild Is The Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joined

They stared at the rearrangement of the beds. The bedside table that lay between them was removed. The two beds were now one, huge bed. The coverlets and sheets were turned back and it stood before them like a vista of pleasure. A great deal of pleasure could be had in this huge bed... Ross and Dem turned to look at each other. The pretty nightshirts seemed to magnify their nudity underneath. Father Christmas said... They needed little prompting to race to the bed and jump in. Dem lay on her back with Ross not far behind, already putting their arms around each other and giggling themselves into ardent kisses. Ross kissed her neck and her face, Dem ducked her head to nip at his neck and he murmured his appreciation of her attention. He grabbed handfuls of her nightshirt, dragging it up out of the way. He shoved the sheets lower and put his mouth upon her as she writhed and sighed and spread her leg to the side to give him more room to pleasure her in a frantic, growling excitement. "Dem!" He pleaded inbetween these attentions. "I want to love you, Dem... I want to make love!" Ross kissed his way up Dem's body. "Do you want that, Dem?! Do you want to...ahhhh!" Dem dragged the hem of his shirt up and Ross came further up her body to feel her stroking him. He shut his eyes. His cock felt huge, felt shivering and desperate. He felt shivering and desperate. Dem touched Ross in a wanton manner, knowing he was being driven crazy from it. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He struggled to talk. "Dem, oh God Dem! I want you!" "Yes, Ross!" she lay back as he began to kiss her breasts. "Yes!" said Dem. "I want to make love!" she cried. "I want to feel you inside me, Ross!" She purred, prettily as he licked her breasts and Ross thought he might actually die if he didn't thrust into her. Their shirts were bunched up, leaving them exposed. Ross, with the somewhat endearing clumsiness of having the will but not quite the way, prodded at Dem too gently. It was becoming clear this was not for the faint of heart. Ross braced himself on one elbow and, tried to explain but was cut short by Dem giving him a messy kiss and the sensation of her hands clutching his backside. No explanation necessary, she was goading him to be merciless, to thrust forward with all his might. He did. Dem gasped. The strangest "POP!" Not a sound but a feeling. A sudden pain and the stretch of invasion. Ross fell forward upon her with a cry and buried his face in her neck and hair. With a gasp between them he drew back and pushed forth once more, back and forth. Back and forth. The pleasure was incredible and they moaned and sighed as he moved back and forth. Back and forth.

It was hot and wet. It was hard and soft. It was fierce and gentle. It was overwhelming. They felt the urge to struggle against each other and cling to each other. To cry out and sigh silence. Joy. Longing. Lust. A blistering hot need between them as they joined in love in this soft bed, this other world. A conflagration that, suddenly... stopped... A grand, celestial pause that set them both at one with the universe. Air, in the musk of their breath as they moaned. Earth, in the home of their bodies, joined in pleasure. Water, in the softness of their mouths, the sudden slick at the tip of Ross' cock, the soft wetness of Dem surrounding him. Fire in the heat of their desire, young and new, a sensation that fell over them both like a veil of joy. They came. Hard. The shadow of death. So much pleasure that one cries out for the protection of god. Too much pleasure, as if one might expire from it. Ross shuddered his last and draped over Dem as they gasped for air and Dem drew her legs around him. They lay, spent, and close enough to feel the others veins pulsing. They made love. They made love and it was wonderful. Having caught up with themselves, they stared at each other in a lovesick daze. They stroked each others hair, whispering ardent words of love and bestowing reverent kisses upon the other. They had found their divinity. This boy. This girl. The spark between them that could ignite and disappear. It disappeared. The only solution was to try again.

  
Morning brought a tangled scene of bedsheets, embroidered nightgowns, flesh and hair. She'd ridden astride him with a joyous smile, his milk teeth draped and gleaming over her breasts. He'd arched over her, from behind, both crying out like strange beasts in heat. They'd kissed themselves into a delirium and passed out from their exertions. They made the night their own. They woke slowly, warm, basking in each other's warmth. Cherishing each other in a sleepy snuggle of bodies and sheets, the nightgowns discarded across the bed and soft in the nest of feather mattress and warm covers as they settled closer. Ross kissed her and rolled over her again, for love must be renewed, one made love in increments, by degrees, in aggregate. Each new attempt deepening the previous and launching the next, and the next...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wild Is The Wind, David Bowie 1976
> 
> Love me, love me, love me, love me  
> Say you do  
> Let me fly away  
> With you  
> For my love is like  
> The wind  
> And wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Give me more  
> Than one caress  
> Satisfy this  
> Hungriness  
> Let the wind  
> Blow through your heart  
> For wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> You  
> Touch me  
> I hear the sound  
> Of mandolins  
> You  
> Kiss me  
> With your kiss  
> My life begins  
> You're spring to me  
> All things  
> To me  
> Don't you know you're  
> Life itself  
> Like a leaf clings  
> To the tree  
> Oh my darling,  
> Cling to me  
> For we're like creatures  
> Of the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> You  
> Touch me  
> I hear the sound  
> Of mandolins  
> You  
> Kiss me  
> With your kiss  
> My life begins  
> You're spring to me  
> All things  
> To me  
> Don't you know you're  
> Life itself  
> Like a leaf clings  
> To the tree  
> Oh my darling,  
> Cling to me  
> For we're like creatures  
> In the wind  
> And wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind


	42. Sugar Plum pas de deux: Adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blessed

Ross kissed Demelza's forehead. "We should rise or they will wonder what happened to us..." sighed Ross. Dem lifted a lazy leg over him and stretched her arms before hugging him again and burying her face in his hair. "I suspicion they do know..." Dem whispered against his neck. Ross laughed and let his arms rest, gently around her, rubbing her back. They had, with Father Christmas' permission, spent most of the night and some of the morning making love. Ross turned his head to see their clothes laid out. Laid on chairs near the door. Whether this was magic or elves had discreetly left them as they slept they did not know. The idea that they might have left them as they slept, gave them both a bit of embarrassment. They woke in a nude tangle of limbs, free of the sheets and the bed worse for wear. They got up, smiling shyly. Ross and Dem didn't simply lose their virginity together, they cheerfully tossed it aside like coins in a wishing well. It had been wonderful.  
They washed and dressed in clothes similar to what they wore at home. Father Christmas said he would speak to them before they were sent home. Ross and Dem were healthy and well and would cherish the time they spent here. Proud and happy that they were allowed to see all Father Christmas and his household did and know that they were real. Ross' scar from sled runner remained. He was self conscious over it but Dem persuaded him that it was not too bad. "You look distinguished!" smiled Dem, and her attitude cheered him. 

  
They were greeted by Mrs. Claus who made no mention of their late rising and settled them to a breakfast of waffles. Ross and Dem had not encountered this sort of breakfast cake and were curious to try it. They were small, heart shaped cakes with a patterned grid across them. They were pipping hot, soft and very delicious for Mrs. Claus instructed them to spread them with butter, which melted at once, and drizzle over treacle so light and golden it might have been honey. Ross and Dem raised their eyebrows in delight at the taste and enjoyed many platefuls. When they finished eating, Mrs. Claus hugged them both and wished them well.

Pleasantly full they went to the stables where Hugh recovered his sense of smell and his health. Dem embraced him, put her arms around his neck and lay her cheek there. Hugh closed his eyes and gave a contented sigh. Ross watched their embrace, a girl and a reindeer, filled with emotion. They did not speak but it was goodbye. "Thank you, Hugh..." said Demelza. She kissed Hugh's forehead. "Adieu, ma feé." he whispered, blinking his soft, blank eyes with tenderness towards her. Ross came forward and lay his hand on Hugh's back. "Farewell, Hugh. I am in your debt..." Hugh seemed to smile. "Farewell my friends. Take care of each other, for you are kindered spirits." said Hugh. Ross and Dem left the stables, hand in hand.

Father Christmas met them at the door. "Come with me, children." He led them to the workshop and all the elves of the household wished them Merry Christmas and bid them goodbye. Ross and Dem waved goodbye, their cheeks hurt from smiling. They felt like they were the luckiest people in the world for they had met all the magical inhabitants of Father Christmas' domain. They followed him into the library where they said their goodbye to Zhara and he brought them into his private study. The room was decorated in the same cozy, opulence as the rest of the estate. He walked to a wall of bookcases and took a large glass snow globe from one of the shelves. He sat in a red damask wing back chair and let the snow globe rest on his knee. "Sit by me, children..." Ross and Dem sat at his feet in front of the chair. Ross crossed his legs and Dem sat with her feet to one side. Their heads bent towards each other and they looked up to Father Christmas expectantly. They were going to go home. He looked from one to the other. He knew he was about to give them a rare honor. He knew he was also going to give them a grave disappointment. "You will return home," he said and they smiled. 'Home! Together!' they thought. "When you return, you will retain no memory of this place." Dem blinked in surprise. Ross' mouth fell open. The enormity of this struck them at once. It sank in immediately. They would not remember the workshop. They would not remember Father Christmas and Mrs. Claus. They would not remember their happy days, playing in this beautiful place. They would not remember last night... They scrambled to their knees. Begged him on their knees.

"No!" they cried.

"Please, Father Christmas!" begged Ross. "We want to remember!"

"No, Father Christmas!" Dem began to cry. "We won't tell!"

Ross agreed. "Yes! We will keep it secret! We won't tell a soul!"

"Please?!"

Father Christmas put the snow globe on a table beside the chair and let his hands rest on their heads. They were both upset and started to cry. They looked to him as they might have to Jud or Prudie when they were small, needing assurance that only a grown up could give. They would not remember their lovemaking. They would not remember all the fun they'd had and the privilege of knowing Father Christmas was real. He shushed them gently and they struggled to obey. They sniffled and rubbed at their eyes. They tried to be strong for Father Christmas demanded it of them. "We promise!" whimpered Ross. "Please?!" sniffled Dem. "Hush, children." He said kindly. They quieted themselves, looked at each other in anguish, even as Father Christmas lay his hand on their heads. They were heartbroken. He smiled. "Take heart, you will know such joys again and you will return home having kept your bundling promise." They sat back down, cowed. They were allowed last night's freedom, specifically because they were not allowed to remember it. Father Christmas looked at Ross. A scar ran down his face from the sled runner hitting him. "Ross Vennor Poldark," he said, in a lordly, serious manner. Ross sniffed and sat up straighter. "You will be eighteen in a short while. You will have aged out of our domain. Ross looked down sadly. He and Dem always clung dearly to their younger selves, the happiness of those days, the play of those days, but he was now, truly, too old. Father Christmas did not mention this to sadden him, only to explain. "Before you come of age I shall provide one gift, in perpetuity for you and, by extension, Demelza..." They looked on, curious, excited as well. A gift from Father Christmas himself... He stood and spoke with authority. "Kneel before me, children..." Ross and Dem scrambled to obey and knelt on one knee, not unlike when they would pretend to be knights. Father Christmas put his hands on their bowed heads and said,

"Ross Vennor Poldark! Demelza Lyon Carne! You shall retain your childlike hearts and live in peace. I vow, this day, that the Poldarks," Ross and Dem's heads tilted up to look at him, even as he still had his hands in benediction over them. '...the Poldarks...' Father Christmas was blessing their union, blessing their marriage. They sat looking wide eyed towards Father Christmas who looked at them with affection as he continued. "...the Poldarks shall live, under the protection of the Spirit of Christmas and, in this you both shall be spared from cruel twists of fate. The Poldarks shall go forth from this place to live their lives in love and contentment and shall always have a happy Christmas!" Ross reached to hold Dem's hand. They knew they would not remember this either and must savor it now. They smiled at each other. They would live happily ever after, Father Christmas said so.

Father Christmas bade them sit once more, shook the snow globe, making it look like a blizzard inside, and put it on the floor between them. 

"Gaze upon the snow globe, children. You are going home."

Ross and Dem clasped hands, and stared into the globe. As the snow settled, they could see Prudie hanging sheets in the yard. Not winter, as it would be now, but a warm, pretty day. They both gasped. They watched themselves, running about, chasing each other and playing in the yard. They were little. Father Christmas was showing them themselves when they had first met. Prudie called to them and Dem embraced her skirts, hugging Prudie's apron. Dem released one of Ross' hands and put her hand to her mouth as her eyes started to tear. She had never dreamed she would see Prudie as others might, as others did. To see Prudie lay a gentle, loving hand on her head. Ross stroked the hand he was still holding with his fingers and chuckled. "I don't want to nap..." Dem laughed as well, she squeezed Ross' hand with affection. The little Ross in the snow globe clung to the wash basket and complained to Prudie that he was not sleepy. They watched Prudie manage them, lay a quilt by the lilac tree and watched themselves take off their shoes and lay down. Prudie took time to admire them at their rest, Ross blinked up at her, smiling, and she smiled before resuming her laundry. Ross wiped his eyes with his free hand. Prudie always treated Ross as if he was her child too... The clouds had been so beautiful that day... He looked at Dem, the woman who would be his wife, over Father Christmas' snow globe. They shared a fond look.

"Sleep, my children. You shall be home when you wake..."

They blinked rapidly. They felt sleep overtaking them. Ross and Dem, joined hand in hand, drooped and lay down on the figured carpet, slowly. They lay with the snow globe between them together, and fell asleep as they so often had done, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar Plum pas de deux: Adagio, Tchaikovsky 1892
> 
> "they could see Prudie hanging sheets in the yard. Not winter, as it would be now, but a warm, pretty day. They both gasped. They watched themselves, running about, chasing each other and playing in the yard." Stay Awake, chapter two in Lovesong


	43. 2000 Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home

Ross and Dem were freezing. They woke in the woods in a drift of deep snow.  
"Ross! Wake up, Ross!"  
Demelza shook Ross awake and he sat up, groggy and in terrible pain by his left eye. "Dem...?" He blinked. His voice was a weak croak but he exclaimed, "Dem!" They laughed from the relief of finding each other and Dem held Ross close to her, cradling his head against her neck. "Oh, Ross! Everyone thought you were dead!"  
They tried to get their bearings. They saw the light of lanterns in the distance, bobbing and weaving between the trees. "Dem?!" They called. "Dem?!" They stood. Ross was unsteady on his feet and his cut was slightly open once more. "We are here!" yelled Dem. Ross and Dem had survived an adventure that seemed to be far longer in time than the period of time that elapsed in the village. To all who came upon them, Ross had miraculously survived the freezing weather and having been hit in the face by his own sled a week after having gone missing. And Dem, his determined fiance, had found him after all hope had been lost, having only been missing fourteen hours. The light drew nearer. Dem helped Ross walk towards the lights and the first person to reach them, running towards them in astonished disbelief was Jud. He ran forward crying tears of joy.

"MASTER ROSS! DEM! EE BE ALIVE!"

He dropped the lantern in the snow and hugged his dear friend. Hugged Dem and looked them both over as the other villagers caught up. Jud looked to Ross' cut in concern, he held his face in both hands, so grateful to see him alive. Ross' eyes shone, Jud's love surrounded him like a physical force. "Prudie'll be tha glad!" sniffed Jud. "We was despairin' over ee!" He wiped his eyes, happily, as the other villagers crowded around, wishing them well and happy that they were alive.

"DEM!! My Dem!Ohhhhhhhh!"

Prudie wept to see Dem come through Jud's door and snatched her up in a hug, even as snow was melting and falling off in clumps from her clothes. Prudie was so overwhelmed to see Dem safe she almost turned from the door before Ross, helped in by two villagers, was led in.

"ROSS!! MASTER ROSS!" Prudie burst into tears. "Oh, m'babbies!" she wailed. "Thank 'eavens! Ee be safe!"

  
Ross was put to bed with his cut stitched and bandaged. Dem was reluctant to leave him but Prudie insisted. "Ee ain't catchin' no ague after all the worryin' I be put through!" Dem was marched into a warm bath, and then encased in warm blankets. She tied a knitted bonnet on her head to keep her warm, walked Dem to her bed, tucked her in like she did when Demelza was little, and fed her hot broth. Prudie spooned broth into her like a baby bird and Dem did not protest. After that, Prudie kissed her forehead and let her sleep. Prudie fingered the strand of Ross' teeth. Knowing its disappearance upset Jud, she bundled up in her shawl and crossed the yard to give it back. "Dem 'ad 'em?!" asked Jud. "Aye..." said Prudie.

Ross was still bandaged but it was a merry Christmas. All week long in the lead up to Christmas, the house was alive with wellwishers, carolers and happy neighbors relieved that 'all's well that ends well'. Ross sat by the fire with Ebb and Flow, good as gold, somehow knowing to sit still by their favorite human rather than run about. He hosted hour after hour of warm greetings and happy talk. Dem sat in the chair opposite and smiled her most radiant smile. Jud and Prudie had their children back and were able to tell Ross and Dem they would wed, much to their delight. They had always been a family, but now reunited and both couples set to wed they felt they were now a family in truth. On Christmas day, the ladies had a grand dinner with the gents. Jud stuffed the lot of them with roast beef, mashed potatoes, leeks in cream, braised carrots and lashings of gravy. Prudie baked bread rolls and plum cake and gingerbread and they all enjoyed a festive dinner, all at home, safe and together. Afterwards Ross sat with Dem, squeezed together in one chair. Dem sat on his lap, careful of his bandage as she put her arms around him, and they stayed content that way. Lit by bright candlelight and the merry fire of the hearth and basking in the loving gaze of Jud and Prudie, Ross held an arm around his woman and Dem hugged her man and they had a very merry Christmas indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2000 Miles, The Pretenders 1984
> 
> He's gone two thousand miles  
> It's very far  
> The snow is falling down  
> Gets colder day by day  
> I miss you  
> The children will sing  
> He'll be back at Christmas time  
> In these frozen and silent nights  
> Sometimes in a dream you appear  
> Outside under the purple sky  
> Diamonds in the snow sparkle  
> Our hearts were singing  
> It felt like Christmas time  
> Two thousand miles  
> Is very far through the snow  
> I'll think of you  
> Wherever you go  
> He's gone two thousand miles  
> It's very far  
> The snow is falling down  
> Gets colder day by day  
> I miss you  
> I can hear people singing  
> It must be Christmas time  
> I hear people singing  
> It must be Christmas time


	44. Love Of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily Ever After

Mistress Trelask, when told she would be making two bridal gowns, wasted no time in leveraging every resource at her disposal to assure the bride and mother of the bride (who, in truth, was the bride's aunt) that they should be dressed in the finest garments she could produce. Silk and trimmings were ordered from London and Demelza in cream satin and Prudie burgundy silk, were the picture of elegance as Dem wed Ross and Prudie wore her dress twice, for her marriage to Jud and as matron of honor at her niece's wedding. Jud, willing to be talked into it by Ross and Francis, was fitted with a made to measure suit with a waistcoat embroidered with apple blossoms in an elegant, walnut brown. It suited his age and figure and he had to admit, cut a dash. Ross also presented to Jud silver buckles to wear on his shoes and the deed to the village house, his gift to Jud, thanking him for his years of loving companionship. Ross' suit was dark blue and the waistcoat was embroidered with lilac fronds between the buttonholes. He also wore a sprig of lilac from his mother's tree at Nampara as a boutonniere and felt, in this way, his parents were with him when he wed.

Ross and Demelza, given a spectacular wedding by his Uncle Charles, were married at Sawle Church. The high folk and well heeled guests were charmed by so handsome and groom and so pretty a bride. They wrote their names in the registry and Dem heard Ross gasp over her shoulder. She smiled at him. "What? What is it?" Ross was surprised to see her write "Demelza Lyon Carne" From the first time they met, he aged six, Ross misheard her and thought her name to be "Lion". Ross smiled from ear to ear and Dem smiled wider to see it for it always made her recall his younger face, the smile of his younger self. He kissed her, to the delight of the assembled witnesses -Jud, Prudie, Uncle Charles, Francis and Verity.

"I love you, Demelza Lyon Carne," said Ross. "I love you, Demelza Lion Carne Poldark..."

They had their reception at Trenwith and their bridal night at Nampara. They stayed for a week and then returned to the village where they had a party to celebrate their own marriage and that of Jud and Prudie. Malcolm and Cynthia, the baker and his wife baked a huge, beautiful, tiered wedding cake with white frosting and candied rose petals. There was also a huge, rich fruitcake as a 'groom's cake'. It was soaked in the finest rum, clad in a layer of marzipan and decorated in white royal icing and candied violets. The orchard grove and meadow were a happy scene of trestle tables, groaning with food and drink, torches and lanterns that lit the place as the sun went down and the happy revelry of all, eating, dancing and sharing friendship and good fellowship in a celebration of love so joyous even Uncle Charles could not help but enjoy himself too.

After the festivities were done, the tables cleared and all put by where things should be, Ross and Dem retired to Prudie's former home and Jud and Prudie were across the yard in their house, Ross' childhood home. A small wooden box was on the kitchen table. Dem opened it and called to Ross to come see. Among the modest gifts of the villagers -jars of honey, salt, hand tools, small gifts that were heartfelt from the villagers who wished them well -a hinged wooden box, unpainted, holding a sugar bun, garnished with two candied violet petals, surrounded in a romantic drift of candied rose petals. The note read,

'For your breakfast. Many happy returns, McNeil's Bakery. Malcolm, Cynthia'

Ross leaned against the doorway. The bottom and top gate open as he looked fondly at the yard, in bloom everywhere, flowers and herbs and the quiet drone of bees in the early morning. The rose bower had crept forward, over time, to cascade by the door and roses bloomed near as he breathed a sigh of contentment. A sweet scent of roses and lilacs gave him a comforting feeling. This yard was not large, but it was a universe of joy for Ross. All that was love and family in his childhood had sprung from this yard and all that was love and family would spring forth anew. He turned to see Dem as she walked to greet him. Swaybacked in the slow step of a woman heavy with child, their first. Conceived at Nampara but soon to be born in the village, in sight of their beloved orchard and Jud and Prudie living as man and wife in Ross' house, now Jud's home outright. She lay her cheek by Ross' chest and he put his arms around her, standing in the gate doorway to the yard, deeply in love with each other. In two years time, they would live at Nampara permanently and oversee the revival of Sawle village and the Mellin cottages as tenants returned and tended the apple trees of a new orchard, planted on Nampara land and tended by the Poldarks of Nampara, kin to the Poldarks of Trenwith. Led by the elderly patriarch, Charles who took things easy. He let Francis take his rightful place as his heir, enjoying his grandchildren and grand nieces and nephews as Francis and his wife oversaw the day to day running of their renown horse farm and Trenwith. The two households were close enough, in their proximity, in the good will and affection between both houses that the Nampara children rode and enjoyed horses as much as their Trenwith cousins helped in the orchard alongside the family and the tenant workers. The Poldarks, content in this golden hour of the morning, would go on to live in peace and happiness. Ross and Dem would ride their horses in the joy of being happy together. Dem would have her breeches, made to measure, by the same tailor who made Ross'. Both orchards grew strong and well, providing a comfortable living for the Nampara Poldarks' modest country life. Demelza would bear five children who all lived to find and love spouses of their own, in a world where Ross and Dem could dandle Julia's babies and Jeremy sat little Noelle and her siblings around him to dazzle them with the same fairy tales he and his siblings and cousins grew up with, living a happy home filled with apples and cats and make believe and love. It was whispered among some of the old wives of the village that the Nampara Poldarks, particularly the wife and daughters, were blessed with second sight, but that was just superstition...

But that, of course, is the future. Ross kisses Dem's brow, at gatedoor, roses round the doorway, in sight of the lilac tree, and they both wave, across the yard, to Jud and Prudie who stand in their doorway admiring their little'uns, for they are always your little'uns, even when they're grown. They shall have tea, all together, in the afternoon and at night Ross and Dem shall retire to bed and Ross will lay a loving hand over their child as they snuggle close and love each other, very, very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love of My Life, Anne Dudley, Chamber Orchestra of London, and Lucy Wakeford 2015


	45. Vehicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dramatis Personae  
> Are we all sitting comfortably? Good. Then let us begin...

A record needle, placed upon a 45rpm seven inch record, is heard amplified by 1982 Technics speakers

  
To the opening horns of "Vehicle" by The Ides Of March

  
In the orchard grove, the villagers stand in two lines, clapping in time to music that seems to be coming from the sky itself. Dusk is falling, the sky has the red, purple and flame orange glowing bands of color of a summer sunset and the dark blue cover of night's approach. The first and brightest stars start to show. At the mouth of the grove, from the direction of the woods, the baker and his wife, Malcolm and Cynthia come forward, to applause. Malcolm bows and presents his wife as she curtsies with a bow of reverence towards her. He takes her hand and they wave to the villagers as they stand to the right and join the clapping of the others.

Then Francis, leading Seamus and Uncle Charles leading Sheba by their reins enter the grove. Francis bows and gives a jaunty tug of his forelock that charms the villagers and makes them laugh. Seamus puts his right foot forward and bows his proud head. He raises it with a happy neigh, to affectionate applause. Sheba neighs and stands as the proud diva she is. Uncle Charles scans the crowd and holds his right hand aloft, in a royal wave and nods his head to all in an elegant mien. They bear left, stand alongside the horses and take up the clapping.

Next the school headmaster and Mrs. Kemp (who bear a striking resemblance to an older Robin Ellis and Angarhad Rees) enter the grove. Mrs. Kemp curtsies, back erect, elegant and impressive. The headmaster bows a deep bow and extends his hand to Mrs. Kemp. They stand to the left and take up the clapping.

Then, six school boys, all in uniform and their coats enter the grove. They throw their caps in the air and catch them with mixed success. They bow and then wave to everyone as they depart, three to the left, three to the right and take up the clapping.

There is a pause. The villagers look to see who will arrive next and a cheer rises up for it is Margaret, flanked on each side by Madame and Ruby, leading all the women of the brothel. Dressed at the height of Georgian hotness, the ladies stride forward and then stop dead to pose in glamour. Margaret grins, looking from one side of the grove to the other. Satisfied that they have made an impressive entrance, half the girls follow Margaret and the other half follow Madame as they strut to their places like any 1990s supermodel ever born, Margaret to the left, Madame to the right. They stand in their places and take up the clapping.

Mistress Trelask enters the grove, happy to wear her own creation, a redingote in light blue with an ivory contrast in the skirt, and curtsies with a fanciful flourish of her right hand. She steps to the right hand side and takes up the clapping.

Verity enters the grove to cheers and wild applause as she curtsies and waves to everyone, takes her place by Francis and takes up the clapping.

The stable hands, led by the young groom who told Charles about Dem's cure for his horse, Sheba, enter waving and bowing in an exaggerated manner, amused to be center stage. They split their number, half to the left, half to the right and take up the clapping.

Will Nanfran and four boys who witnessed Ross sledding come out leaping and waving to everyone. A roar of a cheer for their village lads as they take their bows and split, three and two, on both sides and take up the clapping.

Meggy Dawes, with the raven on her shoulder enters holding the wood dove and her brood in their nest, restored to health and reunited with all her babies. Meggy curtsies and puts the nest in the branches of an apple tree before taking her place to the left and take up the clapping.

Caroline led in by Dwight enter the grove. Dwight bows and Caroline nods her head with a sphinx like smile. Dwight takes her by the hand and leads them to the right and they take up the clapping.

The coachman, leading the carriage horse who likes pancakes, and footmen take their bow. The horse neighs and receives human applause as Sheba and Seamus stomp their right hooves in their own tribute. They split to take their places across for each other, the two footmen across from the coachman with the horse and take up the clapping.

Ruth, the robber girl, Mother Teague and Granny Teague and the Lapland hill witch enter the grove. The bandit mother and Granny Teague and the hill witch curtsy but Ruth bows for she is styled as a highway bandit now and her thigh high boots are much too much boot to faff about curtsying. They all stand to the left and take up the clapping.

Hugh the reindeer enters the grove with the wise owl riding on his back. The owl smiles and blinks his eyes, his physique not allowing a bow. Hugh bows his head, to loud applause and cheers, and takes his place at the right, needing no assistance for his sense of smell is restored.

Jud leads Prudie, by the hand, into the grove. The villagers and the other characters cheer and Jud kisses Prudie's hand. Prudie kisses Jud's cheek and Margaret calls out, "Get 'im Prudie!" Which brings good natured laughter from all. Jud bows, Prudie curtsies and they walk the length of the grove, waving and receiving good wishes and affection as they do so, to stand facing the entrance rather than standing on either side. They take up the clapping, scanning the entrance for first sight of their grufflers.

Ross and Demelza, in their wedding finery, enter the grove to cheers and applause as Garrick, Tabitha Bethia, Ebb and Flow walk before them in a grand procession. Ross and Dem wave to everyone and a chant that drowns out the music is heard,

  
"KISS, KISS, KISS..."

  
Ross smiles and turns to Dem. They kiss each other, briefly, and walk to stand with their pets and Jud and Prudie, saying hello to all, waving and smiling as they do. They face the entrance as thirteen year old Ross, his hair cut short for school and twelve year old Dem enter, shyly, to deafening cheers and applause. Dressed for play in the woods and holding hands. They giggle for the chant returns.

  
"KISS, KISS, KISS..."

  
They look to Jud and Prudie who nod, 'Yes' and Ross kisses Dem in a torrid manner that makes Prudie's mouth fall open in surprise as their older selves fall about laughing and Jud rolls his eyes. The youngsters smile into each other's eyes as everyone cheers. He bows, she curtsies and they walk to stand with their older selves.

They face the entrance as six year old Ross, in his snowy white shirt and fawn brown breeches with grey stockings and five year old Dem, in her apple green, flowered smock and red tights, both in their laced little boots, run in and, having seen Jud and Prudie ahead, keep going. Over laughter and calls of their names Malcolm could be heard saying in laughter, "Ere! You lot are meant t'bow n' curtsy, eh? Come back!" "Come back, Ross!" "Come back, Dem!" They tried to get their attention but Ross and Dem were heedless as the song ended and they ran, the entire length of the grove, to Jud and Prudie. They jumped up and down excitedly.

"Is it the party now?!" asked Ross.

"Is it time to dance?!" asked Dem.

"Can we have syllabub?!" asked Ross.

"Is it the party now?!" asked Dem.

Prudie knelt down and smiled warmly. "Aye, ee can 'ave yer party but ee gots t'take yer bow an' yer curtsy first. Ee have to honor yer guests..." Ross and Dem turned to see all the villagers and all of the characters smiling at them. They giggled to see such a large wonderful party. "All these people?" asked Ross. "Aye," said Prudie. "An' them tha be watchin' on the internet." Ross knit his brows and looked to Dem who was just as baffled. "What's the internet, Prudie?" asked Dem. Prudie smiled warmly and shrugged. "Blessed if I know, luv!" Jud took Ross by the hand and Prudie stood to take Dem by the hand and walk them back to take their bow and curtsy. Jud looked about and realized the music had stopped. He called up into the sky.

"'Ere! Fairlightscales! Thur ain't no music no more!"

Oh. Yes. Sorry.

The satisfying 'clunk' of the play button on a 1984 Sony boombox.

And then, from the sky, the voice of God.

"Dearly beloved We are gathered here today To get through this thing called "life" Electric word, life It means forever and that's a mighty long time But I'm here to tell you there's something else The afterworld A world of never ending happiness You can always see the sun, day or night"

They skipped along side each other, holding Jud and Prudie's hands, as everyone around them smiled. Eighteen year old Ross slung his arm around thirteen year old Ross as they watched the youngest of them, skipping happily next to little Dem, with deep emotion. They had been him, but he would not have to be them and suffer the hardships they bore. Both Dems shared a knowing smile and rubbed the other Ross' back, to keep them calm.

Brought to their places, Ross and Dem bowed and curtsied, first to each other to a loud "Awwwwwwwww" from the assembled guests and then to the crowd to cheers. Ross and Dem could hear God talking in the sky as a dance beat became audible underneath.

"So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills You know the one, Dr. Everything'll-Be-Alright Instead of asking him how much of your time is left Ask him how much of your mind, baby 'Cause in this life Things are much harder than in the after world In this life You're on your own"

God was strange, but no stranger than anything else in this story...

Ross and Dem started to jump up and down, in time to the music. "Can we dance now?" They asked. "Ais!" Said Jud and Prudie.

"And if de-elevator tries to bring you down Go crazy"

Ross and Dem held hands and jumped up and down in a circle. At that, everyone swept into the grove and danced. Oh how they danced...

Everyone is dancing and having fun in the orchard meadow and, as we zoom out, we can see that Father Christmas, Mrs. Claus, Zhara, the ghosts of Ross and Demelza's parents and all the elves are watching the happy party in Father Christmas' snow globe. Oh, they can see you now too. They are waving and say, in unison,

"And they lived happily ever after!"

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vehicle, The Ides Of March 1970
> 
> Hey well  
> I'm a friendly stranger in the black Sedan  
> Won't you hop inside my car?  
> I got pictures, got candy  
> I'm a lovable man  
> And I can take you to the nearest star  
> I'm your vehicle, baby  
> I'll take you anywhere you want to go  
> I'm your vehicle, woman  
> By now I'm sure you know  
> That I love ya (love ya)  
> I need ya (need ya)  
> I want ya  
> Got to have you, child  
> Great God in heaven you know I love you  
> Well, if you want to be a movie star  
> I'll get a ticket to Hollywood  
> But if you want to stay just like you are  
> You know I think you really should  
> I'm your vehicle, baby  
> I'll take you anywhere you want to go  
> I'm your vehicle, woman  
> By now I'm sure you know  
> That I love ya (love ya)  
> I need ya (need ya)  
> I want ya  
> Got to have you, child  
> Great God in heaven you know I love you  
> Oh, you know I do  
> Well, I'm the friendly stranger in the black Sedan  
> Won't you hop inside my car  
> I got pictures, candy  
> I'm a lovable man  
> And I can take you to the nearest star  
> I'm your vehicle, baby  
> I'll take you anywhere you want to go  
> I'm your vehicle, woman  
> By now I'm sure you know  
> That I love ya (love ya)  
> I need ya (need ya)  
> I want ya  
> I got to have you  
> Great God in heaven you know I love you  
> And I'm your vehicle, babe  
> You know I love ya (love ya)  
> I need ya (need ya)  
> I want ya  
> Got to have you, child  
> Great God in heaven you know I love you
> 
> Let's Go Crazy, Prince 1984
> 
> Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today  
> To get through this thing called life  
> Electric word life it means forever and that's a mighty long time  
> But I'm here to tell you there's something else  
> The afterworld  
> A world of never ending happiness  
> You can always see the sun, day or night  
> So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills  
> You know the one, Dr. Everything'll-Be-Alright  
> Instead of asking him how much of your time is left  
> Ask him how much of your mind, baby  
> 'Cause in this life  
> Things are much harder than in the after world  
> In this life  
> You're on your own  
> And if de-elevator tries to bring you down  
> Go crazy (Punch a higher floor!)  
> Woo!go crazy)  
> If you don't like, the world you're living in  
> Take a look around you at least you got friends  
> Called my old lady for friendly word  
> She picked up the phone, dropped it on the floor  
> Ah, ah is all I heard  
> Are we gonna let the elevator  
> Bring us down, oh, no let's go  
> Let's go crazy, let's get nuts  
> Look for the purple banana  
> 'Til they put us in the truck, let's go  
> All excited but we don't know why  
> Maybe it's 'cause we're all gonna die  
> And when we do, what's it all for  
> Better live now before the grim reaper  
> Come knocking on your door  
> Are we gonna let the elevator  
> Bring us down, oh, no let's go  
> Let's go crazy, let's get nuts  
> Look for the purple banana  
> 'Til they put us in the truck, let's go  
> Come on baby let's get nuts  
> Yeah, crazy  
> Let's go crazy  
> Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down  
> Oh, no let's go, go crazy  
> I said let's go, go crazy  
> Let's go, let's go, go, let's go  
> Dr. Everything'll Be Alright  
> Make everything go wrong  
> Pills and thrills and daffodils will kill  
> Hang tough children  
> He's comin'  
> He's comin'  
> Comin'  
> Take me away
> 
> "If you don't like, the world you're living in  
> Take a look around you at least you got friends"  
> Prince
> 
> I don't like the world we're living in at the moment. Sometimes the friends that help get us through don't actually exist, but we love them and need them all the same. 
> 
> We know the Poldarks because Winston Graham told us about them. We rewrite and reassemble their lives and give the Poldarks other stories to reside in because Winston Graham told us all he could about them but we want to have more. Other fandoms all over this site do the same. We need our imaginary friends as much as our real friends and family. I wish you all strength and health in this pandemic and the aftermath as the world tries to bring together what 'normal' will look like now. I wish you plenty of enjoyable fanfic to keep you going while that happens.
> 
> As a wise person once said,
> 
> All we know is this moment, and this moment, Ross, we are alive! We are. We are. The past is over, gone. What is to come doesn’t exist yet. That’s tomorrow! It’s only now that can ever be, at any one moment. And at this moment, now, we are alive – and together. We can’t ask more. There isn’t any more to ask.”
> 
> Best, Fairlightscales


	46. Poldark (1975)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist

The dancing is over. The party is over. It is quiet. Jud and Prudie have turned to watch their children in the distance, in the orchard grove. Jud puts his arm around Prudie and she lays her head near his for they are both proud to have raised such good'uns. Thirteen year old Ross and eighteen year old Ross share the reins and both lead Seamus at a slow walk so that six year old Ross and Dem may have a ride on Seamus' back. Twelve year old Dem and seventeen year old Dem walk along side, chatting and watching so the youngest of them don't fall off in their giggling excitement over riding on such a tall horse. They recede into the distance for our story is done.

Candy And A Currant Bun, Pink Floyd 1967

Strawberry Fields Forever, The Beatles 1967

Comin' Back To Me, Jefferson Airplane 1967

The Lovecats, The Cure 1983

Dream Of The Archer, Heart 1977

Dueling Banjos, 1973 Eric Weissberg and Steve Mandell

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want, The Smiths 1984

The Best Of Friends, Pearl Bailey 1981

The Logical Song, Supertramp 1979

Hell Is For Children, Pat Benatar 1980

Darkness, The Police 1981

Lady Marmalade, LaBelle 1974

Love And Anger, Kate Bush 1990

Wild Horses, The Sundays 1992

Victims, Culture Club 1983

Mountains, Prince 1986

Clean, Depeche Mode 1990

I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen, as performed by Daniel Truhitte and Charmian Carr 1965

If Only Tonight We Could Sleep, The Cure 1986

When You Wish Upon A Star, Cliff Edwards, Disney Studio Chorus 1940

Imagine Me Imagine You, Fox 1975

Why Can't I Be Two People?, Richard Chamberlain 1976

Opening theme from the television series Mission:Impossible, written by Lalo Schifrin 1967

After The Snow, Modern English 1982

I've Been Waiting For A Girl Like You, Foreigner 1981

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes, Ilene Woods, 1950

Fever, Peggy Lee 1958

Every Breath You Take, The Police 1983

In A Flat Field, Bauhaus 1980

Edge Of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks 1982

New Year's Day, U2 1983

Sweetness And Light, Lush 1990

99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees, Susanne Vega 1992

Wonderous Stories, Yes 1977

Seconds, Human League 1981

Twenty Four Hours, Joy Division 1980

Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell 1967

Heartbeat (Tainai Kaiki II) Ryuichi Sakamoto feat. David Sylvian 

Israel, Siouxsie And The Banshees 1980

Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy, Tchaikovsky 1892

Wild Is The Wind, David Bowie 1976

Sugar Plum pas de deux: Adagio, Tchaikovsky 1892

2000 Miles, The Pretenders 1984

Love of My Life, Anne Dudley, Chamber Orchestra of London, and Lucy Wakeford Poldark soundtrack 2015

Vehicle, The Ides Of March 1970

Let's Go Crazy, Prince 1984

Poldark theme, Kenyon Emrys Roberts 1975

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poldark theme, Kenyon Emrys Roberts 1975

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a proper story, sooner or later...um...I guess it is a proper story now!
> 
> Candy And A Currant Bun, 1967 Pink Floyd


End file.
